A Stranger, and Strangers still
by Maverick Soldier
Summary: The Prince is a selfish, arrogant man who released the god of darkness, Ahriman, into the world for his own selfish reasons. Now he must fight to stop a god from destroying everything, including his princess, without the magic of the Tree of Life. But the solution maybe far from what they both had expected. Chapters being re-edited, and a new chapter is on its way!
1. Beginning Again

Every moment, from the moment Elika had woken from death in the Prince's arms, she had resented his actions and spared no expense to make sure he knew. But when the sun rose the next morning, turning the sea of sands to gold, the Prince found his princess at his side and nothing could make him regret any of what he had done.

They had hardly left the boundaries of the city when they had found Farah; the poor donkey was exhausted and skittish, still carrying most of her former burden and highly sensitive to the darkness that had just been released into the world. Elika, still weak from her ordeal, could only watch as the Prince made camp and carefully tended to Farah. That night she had stared at the cloudless sky and fought to collect every drop of hate she could muster for the man sleeping heavily on the sands near her. In her dreams, in her sleep, she could make every sinew and fiber of her body hum with hatred; but with the rise of the sun she felt the bitter emotions evaporate like dew. Elika knew it wasn't in her heart, broken and painful as it was, to deny that she had begun to love the prince.

The Prince kept his word to Elika and over the weeks and he showed her as much of the world as they could cover. At first the Prince had insisted they buy a horse or camel when it became obvious that despite her athletic abilities Elika had never walked for such distances before. However she stubbornly refused, day after day, and eventually the Prince gave in, smiling, to her will. They had met caravans of traders, selling wares and stories from lands Elika had never hear of, made from things she had never seen. They wandered through cities that gleamed like the sun, temples walled by polished marble that could make a man blind and ruins of peoples that pressed imagination. The Prince took her into caves that held to most beautiful ballrooms of crystal and gem that even he dared not ruin for profit, and though she had yet to learn about the depths of the Prince's past, Elika could almost forget those questions in the excitement of their daily discoveries.

Once; they even charted a small boat to carry them across a turquoise and sapphire sea, so filled fish that had Elika hanging like a child from the rails so that she could see them better. They landed on rust colored islands capped with immaculate greenery and here the Prince could hardly keep up with the woman as she darted over the rocks and up into trees. She marveled at gigantic beautiful birds that filled the skies and clouds of red and orange jellyfish that collected near the shallow cliffs. The Prince couldn't help but laugh at the predicament of his poor Farah who had been surly enough with only one human dragging her across the world. When they returned to the mainland the pair continued on their travels; searching ruins for gold, trading and gambling in the big cities, and seeking the exotic. The Prince even managed to teach Elika, after much persuasion, the fine art of scamming the overconfident. They had their fair share of close calls as well, usually involving the Prince and an old "friend" and ended with them making a hasty but mischievous escape.

The world seemed a paradise, even in the burning sands, and each night the pair slept close, smiling at the diamond stars. But even if they had traveled the entire world they would found they couldn't escape the reality of the world.

It began in the gathering darkness one night; Elika had search the sky and saw that even when fully cloaked in blackness the evening star was alone in half the sky. She was startled because she had not noticed the vanishing stars. Soon after they stumbled on a village devoid of human beings and every street choked with the wandering darkness. And in this way their journey continued; cities and towns, forests and farms, the number of infested locations became more and more numerous. At each location they fought and destroyed the creatures, cleansing as the lands as best they could. The Prince could see Elika's power growing with each day. At times she almost seemed to glow and no matter what enemies he had to fight or what trials they faced and he never, not even for a moment, regretted releasing the old god Ahriman.

When the Prince awoke the sun was just breaking the horizon of the desert. The chill of the night was still on the sand and a solid wind made the light cloth of the diminutive shelter snap and heave against its short supports. He turned sleepily, trying to block out the elements that roughly nagged him to wakefulness. The previous day Elika and the Prince had entered the deep desert heading west to chase the rumors of a massive "cloud" of corruption. According to word of mouth the corruption had collected recently and destroyed all of the caravans and villages in its path. The reports of this manifestation were far from anything they had yet encountered and Elika suspected it would bring them closer to Ahriman himself. With that in mind, they had spent the last few days in a near marathon sprint to catch an unseen enemy. Needless to say the Prince was exhausted.

The hollow in the sand beneath the linen cloth was comfortable and shaped just for him. Sword, gauntlet, scarf, vest and other effects all lay next to him, though well within his sleepy reach. He cracked an eye, focusing on the dimly lit cloth suspended a foot above his face, and listened to the windblown sand breaking like waves over his head. For a long moment the Prince lay still and let wakefulness grow with the light. Like a whip he snapped up with an ungraceful flail, head brushing the low ceiling, eyes searching the small space in the low light. A thickness crawled into his throat and he scrambled out into the blowing sands, disregarding his clothes and shoes. The wind and sand assaulted his eyes and he squinted into the lightening darkness. A yell died in his throat; he knew full well that beyond a few yards any sounds he made would be ripped away in the storm. The Prince stared into the abysmal sandstorm; Elika was gone.

Retreating back into the small shelter, the Prince wrestled with himself. She was smart, and some small part of him was proud of Elika. She had left early that morning, before the sandstorm hit; she had probably seen the dark cloud on the horizon the night before. The wind had covered Elika's tracks and every sane traveler the pair had met in their travels had warned against traveling during storms like these. Of course, the Prince thought bitterly as he dressed himself and packed away the simple shelter, no one had ever boasted him to be completely sane. With the thin linen shelter hastily packed away he untied Farah and, to her deep chagrin, loaded her supplies in record time.

The ability to walk in a straight line without a point of reference was largely considered the single most valuable skill a traveler could have and also believed to be an impossible myth. Of course the god Ormazd also was generally considered to be myth. With a rag tied over Farah's eyes to protect her from the sand the Prince began to march in the direction of the nearest village. It was only half a days walk to the nearest town, though the Prince had no idea how much of a lead Elika had. He reasoned that it couldn't have been too long before dawn because frankly Elika would have been just as exhausted as himself. Most likely; she had been hoping for the sandstorm to slow him down and give her time to collect supplies and plot her course. Just the same; she would have had to leave early enough to avoid being caught in the storm herself and that left an unsteady window.

Behind him, Farah made her complaints known but the Prince refused to stop, his scarf pulled up over his face to keep his mouth and eyes protected. Several hours into his trek through the vicious weather the storm came to an abrupt end. The last of the wind whistled past and then there was only sun and the retreating shadow of the storm. Farah paused to shake the sand from her fur and the Prince unwrapped removed the end of the scarf from his face. Squinting into the suddenly bright distance the Prince was pleasantly surprised to realize he had made better time than anticipated. Several miles away, clearly visible on the horizon were the dark jagged shadows of the oasis village.

The village was quiet at first; the citizens still hunkered down inside their various shelters to avoid the weather. Slowly but steadily the shopkeepers and merchants emerged and were quick to set up their carts and displays, irritated by the delay the storm had caused and eager to make up for lost sales. As the Prince entered the village he was paid little abnormal attention and was completely ignored by some of the more high end merchants; taking his less than impressive appearance as an indicator of wealth. He had replaced his scarf to hide his face from prying eyes and the Prince quickly took stock of the decently sized village, seeking out the places Elika was most likely to visit.

This particular town was more than two days walk in any direction from another town. Elika hadn't taken any supplies and only a small amount of the treasure the Prince had collected since his last deposit to his hidden stash. The Prince had calculated approximately what supplies she had taken and if she was planning on getting anywhere it would limit her price range quite a bit. He found a small inn on the far side of the town and paid the owner a few coins to feed and water Farah while he went out to inquire about Elika.

He checked, first, with horse and camel traders. Most of the livestock traders grouped close to the well and near the perimeter of the village. His trained eyes skimmed over the animals and he took stock of their condition while ignoring the shouts from sellers and bartering traders. The fine stallions and well-bred mares were far out of Elika's possible range and she knew enough of animals that the old work-worn bitter creatures would be passed by as well. When he came to the middle aged and well-trained beasts of burden the Prince slowed his pace. As his eyes followed a fast talking salesman, he nearly walked into another man.

"I have been watching you, sir, and I can tell you have an experienced eye." The man was short and stocky, his accent betraying his place of origin, and dressed in mid-toned neutral clothes. The Prince allowed himself to be lead by the shorter man towards his stock of animals, taking notice of the eyes that followed him. "So, my foreign friend, has anything caught your eye? If you see something you like in one of my competitors I can personally guarantee _my stock_ to be able to out do any of their pitiful beasts." The Prince looked the man over carefully and noted the eager glint in the man's dark eyes.

"I can see you have a fine selection and I would be fool enough to look elsewhere. However I am looking for something other than a horse right now." The small man seemed to shift and ready himself for another sales pitch, but the Prince cut him off. "I am loath to say I am looking for my wife. Have you seen a young woman with short dark hair, dresses strangely for the area? She would carry herself in an odd way and set herself apart from the locals." The horse trader's demeanor seemed to drop away the moment he sensed the Prince was not interested in buying stock from him.

"Sir, I have not seen such a woman in this town. I am far to busy to be keeping track of every woman who passes by." He seemed ready to dismiss the Prince until he was suddenly interrupted again. This time by the flash of golden coins in the Prince's palm.

"It's a pity; she is worth quite a lot to me." The trader's eyes would not be torn from the pieces of gold as the Prince tossed them carelessly, though out of the immediate view of the other traders.

"Sir I swear to you I have seen no such girl that might have been your wife."

"But you would tell me, wouldn't' you, if you happened to see her while I am still in town?" he leaned a little closers, rolling the coins in his palm.

"Of course of course, it would only be right, sir!"

"And of course I would purchase at least two of your fine animals to carry her home or at least to chase after her. And I would be struck with such gratitude for your help I would certainly reward you with all my heart."

"Yes sir, I would provide you and your wife with my best stock!" The Prince let the man follow the heavy coins for a moment longer and then slipped them into the fold of the man's outer layer.

"A good man." The Prince pat the man's shoulder with his left hand and looked him dead in the eye. It was then that the trader seemed to notice the heavy gauntlet and flinched almost imperceptibly. "I'll be back in several hours to look over your horses again." He grinned at the horse trader and clapped him again, his gauntlet clinking, before turning away.

The Prince spent the rest of the day wandering the small village buying supplies and looking for any kind of news about Elika. He stopped by the horse trader's stalls after several hours and tipped him another gold coin, but the man told the Prince he hadn't seen or heard of anyone that would fit her description. He had combed the small village so many times, by nightfall, that he could map out its every alley and rooftop. The man that had stabled Farah offered a room to the strange prince but was quickly turned down. Even as the sun began to fade the Prince had found no trace that Elika had even passed through this village. He wrapped the extra length of his scarf over his face and shoulders to brace against the steadily falling temperatures and made another pass through the village.

Many merchants were still out in the streets as bonfires and lamps were lit, though some had closed up their shops or were in the process of packing away their wares. There was noise and delicious smells as late meals were prepared and the Prince was forced to buy a loaf of bread to calm his aching stomach. As he turned a corner and started down a darkened alleyway he caught the sound of frantic rising whispers. He hardly paused at the initial noise but as he passed and the voices grew louder he froze, recognizing one of the speakers.

"We agreed on five this morning!" the familiar voice was harsh and struggling to keep quiet.

"Well my dear things change and my prices have gone up. Its 15 for everything." The second voice was a smug sounding merchantman.

"I don't have enough for that, and you gave me your word! Now I demand the goods I purchased this morning."

"No can do, young lady." The man was no longer trying to keep his voice low, letting it rise to a normal speaking tone. "Five was the price this morning, and when the sun set the price went up to fifteen. If you don't have the money I'm sure there is something we can work out…"

"Ugh! Don't touch me!" the other voice yelled and there was a scuffling sound. The Prince took off in the direction of the altercation. It was Elika; he had been on the receiving end of that yell too many times to mistake it. As he ran he saw a flash of light from inside a small stall whose reed woven curtains were let down to signify the shop as closed. There was a shout and Elika burst out of the shop, nearly tearing down the whole curtain as she did, with a small bag of, what appeared to be, supplies. She threw a handful of coins into the dirt, her face pulled anger.

"Take your damn coins!" she whirled and was about to stalk off when she suddenly caught sight of the Prince standing only several stalls away. They both froze, eyes locked for a long moment until a scuffle from behind the ruined curtain broke the moment.

"Elika…" the Prince called softly as if speaking to a startled animal. Her eyes flicked to the stall merchant and then back to the prince. Elika shifted her weight just slightly and the prince knew she was going to run.

"Elika, why did you run off and ditch me in that sandstorm?" he kept his voice low and calm. Elika stared him down and the minutes stretched out as she tried to decide whether to run or not.

"I have to go." She replied simply, but he Prince was quick to retort.

"Why?"

"I have to find the Ahura."

"Why do you have to go off alone? We were searching together, Elika."

"We can't."

"Why not?!" the Prince's voice was raised, nearing a shout.

"You know why! You are arrogant and selfish and I-I can't trust you! I'm going to find the Ahura without you and use the power Ormazd gave me to lock away Ahriman. It's my duty." Elika shifted again and the Prince moved to crouch just slightly. He couldn't argue. It was selfish of him to release Ahriman just to bring back one girl, to sacrifice the entire world for himself. But he wasn't sorry.

"Elika, wait!" he called out as she suddenly turned and took off down the alleyway. The Prince cursed loudly and took off after her, ignoring the startled and angry merchant.

The pair tore down the dusty roads, pushing past strangers and dodging obstacles. Elika was light and almost impossibly fast and the Prince had to fight to keep up with her. He tried to call out to her again but she didn't seem to hear him. She slid around a sharp corner and down a narrow alley that ended in a dead end. The Prince hoped this was his chance to catch her but Elika didn't slow even half a pace. As she reached the end of the alley she jumped, a flash of magic throwing her up to the single story roof ledge. She grabbed the rough brick ledge and pulled herself up, disappearing over the edge. The Prince grit his teeth and jumped off the sidewall as high as he could and then used his gauntlet to climb the remaining distance.

As he pulled himself over the edge he looked around for Elika and saw nothing. The gritty sand on the top of the building was disturbed but he was unable to see footprints or even that Elika had come this way. The Prince spun around trying to catch any hint of movement. There was a sound of a single footstep and before the prince could react he saw a painful flash of light and then his world went dark.


	2. Prince and Princess

As he pulled himself over the edge he looked around for Elika and saw nothing. The gritty sand on the top of the building was disturbed but he was unable to see footprints or even that Elika had come this way. The Prince spun around trying to catch any hint of moment. There was a sound of a single footstep and before the Prince could react he saw a painful flash of light and then this world went dark.

When the Prince opened his eyes he was simultaneously blinded and made acutely aware of a splitting headache. He rolled instinctively and shielded his face from the overwhelming light only to find the ground he was laying on scorching hot. He sat up abruptly to escape the heat, pressing a palm against his forehead to ease the spike of pain behind his eyes. Under his skin across his eyebrow and to the side of his eye he could also feel the warmth and swell of a good sized bruise and gingerly tapped it to gage its size.

"Damn, she hit me pretty hard…" he murmured to himself. Looking around, the Prince realized with venom that it was well into the morning. Meaning Elika was long gone. He growled and got to his feet, looking around at the rooftop he'd been left on. It was a little degrading to know that a single hit from the princess had incapacitated him. And even though he knew damn well that she was a powerful, magic wielding princess, gifted by the gods and classically trained by fighting evil; his chaffed ego stung like sunburn.

Dropping easily from the hot roof into the dusty alleyway he made for the well of the oasis, jaw set firmly. The Prince took stock of shops on his brisk trip, calculating supplies he would need and were the best places seemed to be to get them. After being jostled for the umpteenth time in the street and thwarting the third attempt at being pick-pocketed, he acknowledged that the small village seemed busier today. Though it might not be odd for business to fluctuate in an oasis like this, there seemed to be something different about the passersby.

Many of the figures that packed the streets were obviously not merchants and their clothes were far too well kept to drifters or travelers like himself. There were children too, tucked close to their parents and siblings, who stared at the merchants and shops and travelers with wide eyes. There was something about the strange travelers that the Prince could not ignore. They were nervous and skittish, more so than normal travelers. The Prince counted three arguments as they broke out between the touchy strangers and the locals, and all in the space of time it took him to reach the oasis well.

The Prince drank his fill and splashed cool water over his face, noting absently the clusters of newly arrived families. Refreshed as he could be, the Prince wound the ends of scarf to cover most of his face and hurried to find the horse trader from the day before. He found the small man talking travelers into quick sales, and generally reveling in the sudden influx of customers. When the Prince approached the trader actively avoided his gaze and pretended not to notice him, though the Prince did not have the patience to deal gently with him today. The moment he was close enough the Prince roughly turned the small man, his fingers gripping his thick arm meaningfully.

"Where did she go?" his voice was a growl and though it made the trader swallow nervously he quickly steeled his face and sneered at the Prince.

"I don't know what you are talking about and I don't have time for this. If you are not here to buy, as I suspect you are not, then please leave, I have customers to attend to." He attempted to move away but the Prince only tightened his fingers.

"She left early this morning and I know she must have bought an animal yesterday or today. That means you are either lying to me or useless. Now which is it?" This had certainly had not been his morning and the horse trader seemed to suddenly become aware of this fact, his face falling into a nervous frown. The Prince's gauntlet clacked close to the man's neck and the sword at his hip made a threatening clatter of its own, which may or may not have been an accident.

"I…I don't know where she went! She bought from another trader so I don't know which way she went but if you seek the woman I remember then she bought a camel early this morning, soon after the strange travelers began to arrive from the desert. Please… I told you all I know!" the Prince searched the man's face, his blue eyes chilling the trader even in the oppressive heat. He growled, low in his throat, but reluctantly pulled his hand away. The horse trader was about ready to piss himself right there and the Prince could tell he was telling all the truth he could. The Prince turned without another world and disappeared in the crowd, leaving the frightened man stuttering in the sun.

He passed through the town collecting supplies as quickly as possible, ignoring any strange looks he got, and if people seemed to move out of the way of his icy glare the Prince didn't bother to notice. He made it back to the inn where he had left Farah the day before to find the same old man watching over the stables. The supplies and equipment he had left behind was exactly as he had placed them and the donkey seemed as rested as possible. He tacked the creature without a word, loading the additional supplies and made to leave while the stable keeper was busy cleaning, throwing a handful of gold onto the cushion the man had been resting on the day before. He had no idea where Elika had gone but he would be damned if that was going to stop him from searching every city surrounding the oasis until he found some word of her.

"Young man wait!" the Prince hesitated against his will as the old man shuffled out of one of the stalls.

"Thank you for taking care of my donkey, I left the fee for the stall and the feed on your cushion."

"Your thanks is not necessary, but that is unimportant. Where are you heading with so many supplies?"

"I am heading to the cities in the west, old man, and I have to go now, I am in a hurry." The old man shuffled closer halting the Prince's escape again.

"You can't! Avoid the west, young man! The travelers who arrived today came from the west and they say that a great cloud of evil has settled there. They say city of Menid'Teis has been completely destroyed." The Prince Paused and turned to look the old man in the eye.

"Menid'Teis? Have all these people fled from that city?" It would certainly explain their strange dress and behavior, thought the Prince. The city of Menid'Teis was farther west than the Prince had been in this part of the desert, and though he had heard many stories about it and its people he had deliberately avoided it for his own reasons. The people of Menid'Teis were rumored to be a strong and courageous people, their ancestors having dared to settle on a wall of jagged peaks that bordered the sea. Their gamble had paid off as they soon found the mountains to be full of minerals and the land quite fertile. Something truly frightening or terrible must have happened to push the Teis people from such a prosperous city, the Prince thought and felt a spark of excitement that he knew he should not have felt.

"Yes, and many more are coming from the surrounding cities. You must swear to avoid the western cities!" the old stable keeper seemed to shiver at the thought.

"Thank you for the information. You've aided me greatly old man." The old man made a noise as if he had more say but the Prince was already moving away. The rumors of the corruption moving west were seemingly confirmed and focused on a single city. He had no doubt that Elika had heard the news and was riding towards Menid'Teis even now. The Prince made his way through the throngs of people, pushing and shoving as he moved towards the edge of the village, and he felt his usual swagger and confidence seep back into wounded ego. Though he had never passed the gates of this particular city, he had traveled the deserts here often enough and knew the way as surely as a man could. And it was with that thought in mind that he ignored the strange looks he received as headed into the shifting sands alone but for Farah.

After nearly two full days of perfect traveling weather, the Prince supposed he deserved the skin-peeling sandstorm that whipped up suddenly out of the south. The air had been hot and not even Farah had smelled it coming. Of course he hardly considered it comeuppance of any kind as he had already decided to rest for the night in the most perfect natural desert shelter he had kept a secret thus far.

Almost indistinguishable from any other low crop of rock, a single great slab of stone had been snapped in two some time in the past leaving two ramp-like flakes and a crevice in the sand. It was dangerous, travelers knew, to get too close to holes like that in the desert; many were death traps with precarious edges a moment from collapse. This scar in the earth was different, and despite the potential for danger, the Prince had been well rewarded for his recklessness and curiosity.

The deep crevice descended more than three men deep at the lowest point and was more than double that in length. The crevice widened at the bottom, like a triangle, and the bottom of hole was nearly twice a man's height in width though at the top it was only half that. With the stone flakes around the lip of the gouge blowing sands passed easily over the hole and the lengthwise orientation hardly ever aligned with the wind, keeping the space deep and clean. But the most important and remarkable feature of the hole was the small fresh water spring that seeped from between the cracks in one of the rock walls. The water formed a cool clear pool in the deepest part of the ground that was one quarter the size of the crevice bottom and deep enough to swim in. Which was exactly why the Prince had marked this oasis and was exactly why he had decided to rest there now.

Farah, who had been so desensitized to the Prince's antics that she could hardly be considered a donkey at all, had followed the man easily into the narrow awkward cavern without so much as batting an eye. After a long drink the donkey had settled down, burdens removed, to have a good sleep and to ignore the strange man splashing around in the desert puddle. The Prince hadn't washed or taken a proper bath in a good long time and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy a cool, clean private bath after traveling almost nonstop for days. He had washed his clothes in as manly a way as he could muster before leaving everything, lucky red and blue scarf included, on the beach to dry.

With his leathers and linen left on the hot sands the Prince moved into the cool spring pool. Even where his clothes generally kept his skin out of the sun the pale tan lines across his hips, over his shoulders, the tops of his feet and most of left hand and forearm were only a shade lighter than the rest of his deeply tan skin. The planes of his body were highlighted by a number of long-healed scars. A trio of long pale lines that striped down from his right shoulder suggested someone foolish might have taken a whip to the Prince several years ago, and a single long smooth stroke a breath away from the space between his ribs was a failed attempt by a temple guard, or a young bride-to-be's father, he couldn't remember which. There was a splatter of tiny scars on his right forearm from his battle with Ahriman but life experience told him they would soon fade.

The Prince dunked his head under the waist deep water and scrubbed the sand from his rough brown hair. He washed the sweat and work from his body and relaxed in the desert puddle. As he stared up into the darkening and featureless sky, floating calmly on the small surface of the water, the Prince felt his mind wander and so almost missed the movement of a small shadow by the precipice of the hidden oasis. He blinked as the shadow suddenly became a clear shape and as he tried to make out the form it lurched over the edge. The Prince dove ungracefully out of the way as a mass of humanlike limbs and faded red cloth crashed into the water, casting waves up the sand and startling Farah to her feet.

When he surfaced, the Prince whistled loudly at Farah to call her attention back to him, because the gods knew he wasn't in the position to chase the beast into another sandstorm. In a moment she settled, standing still but wary, and the Prince turned to the deepest center of the oasis. The red cloth floated to the surface and the Prince waded to the mass, groping for something solid. When his hand met with, what he guesses was, an arm he grabbed tightly and hauled the body upward. It was a person, he realized instantly, and as he threw his arm around the trunk of the prone figure it became obvious they were also female.

If it weren't for the water, the Prince decided as he sloshed toward the sand, the girl would have been fairly light and easy to carry if what he could guess of her size was anything to judge by. He laid the figure down as nicely as he could onto the sand and quickly decided that if she hadn't smashed her head on the floor of the shallow basin she was going to strangle in the mess of red fabric that clung tightly, saturated with water, to her face, neck and body. It took him a moment to find the end of the material, tucked under the free arm he had grabbed, and he quickly unwound the girl from the killing scarf. The person was quickly revealed to be, in fact, a woman perhaps the same age as Elika.

A long tail of black hair stuck to the back of her long neck and the side of her well-tanned face. Two-toned, dip-dyed fabric clung lightly to her skin, turquoise at the bottoms of her mid-calf pants and the long hem and sleeves of her wide collared shirt, then turning to clean white with gold embroidery at her pant-waist and deep collar. A black sash-belt hung to the side of her hips. She might have tried to hide the fact that she was obviously wealthy under the worn and faded red wrap but without it the Prince quickly noted the flash of golden earrings and a gold collar necklace made up of many small glittering disks. She had no bangles or makeup but he suspected she had a least a few gold bracelets and sick of kohl hidden somewhere on her. There was just a touch of sunburn on her smooth cheekbones and forehead and her lips were cracked, suggesting she hadn't had a good drink or shelter in quite a while. Though the strangest thing was that her left hand and arm, past her elbow and half way to her shoulder, was securely bandaged.

The Prince had just slapped the side of the girls face gently when she suddenly came alive coughing and gasping. The Prince rolled her on her side gently so she could expel the water from her lungs and throat. The moment the woman got a deep breath into her lungs she rolled back over grasping weakly for the Prince's arm, feverish gold and amber eyes searching for his, and her tongue licked unconsciously at a remaining drop of water by her lips. The woman's mouth suddenly moved frantically and though only a throaty rasp could be heard the woman's condition conveyed her meaning obviously enough.

The Prince pulled away and shuffled through the pile of supplies he had unpacked from Farah, searching for the recently replenished water skin. He twisted around and slid back to the half conscious woman's side and had hardly opened the container when the woman snatched it away. She chugged the water so quickly she lost half of it down her face and gasped for air only when she on the verge of drowning again. The Prince admitted to himself that he was mildly impressed that she didn't choke herself, and remained quiet, noticing too that the woman's left arm seemed functional and painless despite the tight fresh bandages.

When she had nearly emptied the skin, the strange woman let the container drop from her hands as she gasped to regain her breath. After a long moment of near silence she turned and looked at the Prince, as if only just realizing he was there, the fog gone from her vision. He didn't move and just stared firmly back with impassive icy eyes. The woman easily met his stare with her own strange eyes, taking in the scar over his eye and all the features of his attractive face. She took in his dark hair as it stuck to his face and neck, the scars that patterned his smooth skin and his barely-there somewhat awkward tan lines. Her gaze flicked back up to his eyes and she promptly slumped backward into the warm sands, unconscious.


	3. The City

The woman easily met his stare with her own strange eyes, taking in the scar over his eye and all the features of his attractive face. She took in his dark hair as it stuck to his face and neck, the scars that patterned his smooth skin and his barely-there somewhat awkward tan lines. Her gaze flicked back up to his eyes and she promptly slumped backward into the warm sands, unconscious.

When the Prince awoke, the sun was still low, slashing a brilliant gold stripe near the top of the ravine. The smear of sky he could see between the rocks was pale blue and clear, not hint of the sand storm from the day before nor of the slight foreboding feeling in his chest. He shook the feeling off, disregarding it as chill from the night before and stretched out, joints and muscles loosening comfortably. He continued to stare up at the sky, reluctant to leave the cozy warm nest in the sand, but the sound of gentle splashing inspired him to sit.

Wiping his face with the back of his hands he blinked into the dimness of the cavern and was instantly reminded of the facts he had hoped to only be a dream. Elika was not with him; the princess had made escaped for parts unknown, refusing to discuss with him, and knocking him unconscious in a small desert town. But he was not alone, and the mysterious stranger who literally fell into his little world was currently standing knee deep in water, face pressed close to the wall, drinking with certain urgency from the spring as it seeped from cracks in the rock.

The woman looked as strange as she had the night before. She hadn't bothered to retie her hair and it was messily drawn back with sand clinging where she had been lying wet on the ground. Her light clothes had dried through the night and the Prince could see they were tied around her hips with a narrow cloth cord and were made with slits on either side that showed a narrow sliver of skin down from the waistline, about a hands length, on her hip and upper thigh. From the way that she was drinking, the Prince guessed she hadn't woken much before he had, and it was probably her movement that had woken him.

The girl didn't seem to have noticed that he had woken up and when she finally drank her fill, she glanced casually to the opposite bank of the pool. Whatever she saw made her startle and the girl let out a sudden strangled sound. The Prince jumped subtly at the noise and watched as the woman he had rescued began to slosh hurriedly across the pool. He noticed, then, a small object on the edge of the sand he hadn't noticed the previous night. When she reached the object she dropped onto the mud and began to rifle through what was apparently a bag, though it was difficult to tell from his distance.

The Prince watched for a moment longer before he decided it was none of his business and stretched again. He turned to check Farah and found her still lounging on the sands, enjoying the rare chance to rest deeply, though she had one long ear cocked towards the noisy stranger. As he stood and gathered his, now dry, clothes the woman became aware that he was awake. He looked across the clear waters when the woman's movements suddenly stopped. She was crouched low with the bag, her sharp eyes watching him with a posture exuding tension. Amber eyes never left the Prince as he slipped into his clothes and checked his weapons on the beach. She hesitated, and for a moment the Prince was certain she was going to bolt away into the desert, but something seemed to steel inside of her and instead she gathered up her bad and began to wade slowly, almost reluctantly, back across the shallow rim of the pool.

When she reached the bank near the Prince she stopped, standing straight and firm with her bag held close, but her body betrayed her nervousness. The Prince arranged his sword at his side and he turned to face her straight on with mild amusement on his face. The woman stepped closer, just out of arms reach, and hesitated again, the Prince's relaxed posture making her contrasting nervousness all the more obvious. Finally the woman stretched her un-bandaged arm out towards him and as her tight fingers uncurled he caught the unmistakable glint of gold. She spoke in a clear voice, eyes locked on his face, but her words in a strange dialect and the Prince couldn't understand a thing.

"I'm sorry but; what? I don't speak your language." He smiled cockily and relaxed his weight to one side. The stranger looked startled for a moment, her hand dropping slightly but then something in her relaxed. She lifted her hand again steadied herself again.

"Thank goodness, I could not guess where you were from by your appearance." Her words were accented in an oddly familiar way, but easily understandable. "My thanks, for saving my life. This is all I can spare now, but please take it." There was a pause and then the Prince let out a crisp chuckle.

"Boy do you have it all wrong Princess." The woman's face flickered through startled then suspicious then nervous all in an instant, but she stayed quiet. "You saved your own life by stumbling into this oasis. I doubt you would have made it more than another day if you hadn't and you can be certain you're at least three days from any village well."

"I…" the Prince interrupted her, plucking the light gold disks from the woman's hand and slipped them into an unseen pocket.

"Of course I am never one to refuse reward." He flashed her another smile and returned to check his possessions before loading everything onto Farah. Taken aback and thrown off balance by the Prince's actions, the woman just stared after him. When she finally regained her senses several things seemed to click into place and she hurried towards the Prince as he finished packing his donkey.

"Wait, where are you going?" though urgent, her voice was carefully polite, and the man hesitated for only a second as he tightened a leather strap.

"I am on my way to the great city of Menid'Teis." She didn't need to know, it was true, but he found himself telling her anyway. Probably due to something of Elika's influence. "Ah, here," he passed her the worn red silk cloth she had worn the day before. "You should consider a better disguise." The woman tensed visibly and grasped at the prince's wrist with both hands, all but ignoring the cloth and his last statement.

"No! You can't go to Menid'Teis!" her voice was urgent and as forceful as a half starved girl could be. "A great evil has fallen on that place and all of the citizens, who could, have fled."

"That is the rumor. I am certain there is something there that I… lost and I will get it back." The woman's grip only tightened on his arm and she moved to stand directly in front of him and looked him full in the face.

"Please I am begging you; reconsider your choice! There is nothing worth traveling to that place now! Surely a traveler such as you has heard of the great shadow that has spread over the land? Well the thickest of the corruption and darkness has settled in that place!" A moment later she seemed to become aware of her grip on the Prince's arm and instantly pulled her hands away, tucking the bandaged one against her body.

"I know what may be waiting there but my mind is made up." He turned away again and attached a lead to Farah.

"But what could possibly-" the woman began but the Prince cut her off with a smile over his shoulder.

"And once I've found what I need, imagine the reward for ridding a city of 'corruption', I'll be able to buy my own island with the gold." The woman stood stunned at the man's words as he made his way out of the crevice.

"You fool…" the words where hardly more than a breath. She bent down, still dazed to collect her red wrap. The wind whistled across the opening of the crevice and the woman stared up after the man. Finally she clenched her fist and began to hurry up the bank of sand, covering her head and shoulders with the cloth to protect against the sun.

"Wait!" The Prince paused when he heard the voice and looked over his shoulder at the flustered girl. Mild irritation crept into his chest; he didn't have time to waste on this girl.

"I haven't changed my mind and you can't stop me." He turned back around but he paused again when he heard the woman's foots steps draw nearly level with his.

"I know I can't change your mind, and so I will come with you." The Prince nearly tripped in surprise and turned back to look at her.

"Are you insane? Isn't that the city you nearly died trying to flee from?"

"Yes, its true. But whether you acknowledge it or not, you saved my life and as a... as a citizen of Menid'Teis it is my duty to repay my debt. If that debt is best served by returning to that dark place, then so be it." the Prince knew that look on her face to be one of complete certainty and damn if her mind wasn't already made up. There was no use arguing, so even as she steeled herself for a stony refusal the Prince just sighed and continued walking.

"I don't need any help. I am used to doing these things alone." He muttered and he could hear the woman's following footfalls just behind him.

"It is my duty to help you as best as I can."

"Duty… yeah of course it is." The Prince snorted quietly. The woman just tugged her wrap to better shade her eyes and followed a step behind the Prince.

The sun continued to climb as the small group made their way towards the distant city. The Prince could tell the woman was still exhausted but she somehow managed to keep pace with him. Honestly he was deliberately moving more quickly than he would have otherwise in a half-assed attempt to lose her while they were still within easy distance from the oasis. But as midday approached and the Prince showed no sign of slowing, the strange woman simply un-slung her bag and withdrew some dried fruits in an attempt to keep her energy up. Which impressed the Prince because he had wondered exactly what she was carrying in a bag hardly large enough to fit an emaciated cat.

"Girl, how far are we from the city?"

"My name is Aara, and within the day we should be able to see the Sea Ridge Mountains that point to Menid'Teis." Her voice was a little hoarse and muffled by her scarf but he caught her words easily. He sighed heavily, churning resentment for his own weakness growing, and glanced over his shoulder at the red wrapped girl. He shook his head and deliberately slowed his pace by half. Aara stepped up next to him and looked at him questioningly, obviously surprised, but the Prince just smirked and pulled out a water skin and held it out to her. Letting her walk to death, he thought to himself, would not bode well if, no, _when_ he found Elika again.

True to her word, as the sun began its downward slope the golden desert was separated from the pale blue sky by a thin black line that grew out of the west. For the next two days they made for the point where the black jagged mountains disappeared into the horizon and the sky met the flat earth again. By the second morning the wind had changed direction and was carrying the distant but unmistakable scent of the ocean. And by that evening they could see the gates of the city, stark and glittering against the base of the mountains.

They camped early, within easy reach of the city, on Aara's advice. "There are things in that place that will require all your strength and the night will only make them stronger." She had been prepared to beg him not to approach the city that night but the Prince complied easily, much to her great surprise. The Prince knew exactly how truthful her warning was. Cloudy smog seemed to hang in the air over the city and along with the breath of the sea the wind carried the foul smell of corruption. So the pair slept early; or the woman slept early and like death while the Prince woke every hour, full of nervous excitement like he hadn't felt in years.

The morning light was colder and weaker than either traveler would have liked while the sun seemed almost struggling to rise. With steady steps, the Prince decided it was possible this was actually the truth. As they approached the city; the desert seemed to become even more desolate, despite the looming signs of civilization. The stench of the corruption was almost physical and finally Farah, her every prey sense screaming to run, refused to come closer to the city.

"Even your donkey has more sense than you, do you still refuse to turn back?" Aara stroked the wide-eyed creature to sooth her some. But the Prince gave her a look that she knew was deathly serious. "Very well," she gave in. "there is a place nearby where merchants used to camp when they could not be in the city. Your donkey will be safe there." She led off the straight path to a stand of rocks where a small manger stood surrounded by a thin wooden fence. The Prince resented having to leave Farah but right now Elika meant more than anything else.

"Will she be safe here? What about other animals?" the Prince asked after securing Farah and taking what supplies he could.

"Not even carrion birds come here." The woman responded gravely over her shoulder.

The city of Menid'Teis was as desolate and eerie as its ruined gateway had foreboded. The main causeway that lead upwards through the tiered city was full of all the signs that life had thrived here and then suddenly been wiped clean. Within the atmosphere of corruption, the scent of rotting meat and dying fires sat so heavily the travelers almost choked.

At first glance, one might never have seen the creeping black rot that seemed almost alive amongst the ruins of the city. Against the backdrop of crumbling buildings, great columns of sky blacking smoke, the scattered remnants of chaos, and the discolored, cloudy sky that spoke doom, the small stains of shifting black slime seemed terribly unimportant. But the Prince and Aara kept them under an unwavering and cautious stare. Never getting to close and never letting them come closer because it wasn't the crumbling buildings or wild fires that would kill here.

They walked through the main gates and from the small open square chosen their route up the main causeway. The city was built into the steep mountainside by carving out flat levels like giant stairs and the royal palace had been cut from the living stone spires at the very top. From the high tier, Aara had told the Prince; most of the city could be seen, laid out as if flat on a map, and the road they were on would lead directly there. Both had high suspicions that the source of the corruption would most likely reside at the peak and around the royal palace. And of course they both suspected that taking the main road would be the most dangerous, but it was also the fastest.

As they walked Aara suppressed the urge to search through the ruins as they passed. Everything was silent and she wasn't fool enough to believe that she would find anyone or anything alive in the ruins; she just wanted to find something, anything at all. The travelers could smell rotted meat but aside from butchered animal bones there were no corpses, no remains, not even a dead cat. Somehow finding nothing was far more disturbing than seeing the streets littered with the dead. Aara just kept her red shawl wrapped tight and held her position a pace behind the mysterious Prince.

An unearthly howl cut through the stifling air, half way between a wounded cat and a crying dog. Aara froze like stone at the sound, and the Prince too came to a stop, turning so that he could see Aara and cocked an ear to listen for the sound. Again the howl echoed, piercing in the quiet, and closer this time.

"I thought you said there were no wolves here." It sounded like no wolf the Prince had ever heard but his concern quickly focused on Farah for a moment.

"Those are not wolves." Aara's voice was tight and her eyes were like stones when she looked at him. Another howl made the Prince's ears ring and he turned to prepare to fight whatever was coming, but the woman grabbed his wrist and pulled him with such force he was taken a little off guard. "We have to run!" she yelled to him and dragged him down a side street. The woman was fast, the Prince admitted to himself, and she darted down the alleyways and around corners. A sharp cry from the strange animals somewhere behind them let the travelers know they were still being followed and Aara's speed only increased. Aara's hand fell away from the Prince and she suddenly ran up a half collapsed stonewall and leapt onto the roof. The Prince followed up and after her but slid to a halt after leaping to a stable roof.

"Stop, why are we running? I've fought corruption before and this is wasting time!" the Prince drew his sword and turned to the direction were he had left last heard the pursuing creatures. Aara skid across the sandy roof and whirled to face him, her features were frantic.

"We can't stop, we have to run! This is not something you can just fight here like this, please!"

"I don't run from a fight. If you're scared go ahead and run." The Prince's gauntlet clinked and he smirked at nothing.

"No, you really can't fight, the corruption; its-" but she was cut off as a creature that could only be from nightmares, climbed slowly onto the half collapsed roof. The Prince refused to let his surprise show but he had never seen corruption like this. The thing ran on four legs, its body almost a human with too long limbs, twisted somehow with a massive wolf and covered, not with hair, but tar-thick black ooze. Empty eyes glowed above a set of twisted jaws and the saliva that dripped between the teeth had a stench all its own.

The Prince crouched into a fighting stance and raised his gauntlet to guard. The creature growled and stalked towards its target, leaving its sticky black tracks to seep and vanish into the stone. The two began to circle each other, spiraling slowly closer but before the Prince could make half an arc the snapping of wood caught his attention.

"Behind you, look behind you!" the woman cried and as he did he ducked, narrowly avoiding the pounce of a second of the corrupted wolves. When the attack missed the first creature lunged to catch its prey off guard and the Prince was able to raise his guard just in time. I must be getting slow, he thought to himself. The creature was heavy and with one claw on his gauntlet and the other on his sword, the Prince strained to find the strength to throw the creature back. And of course there was the other creature to worry about, which was carefully moving into attack position again. Only this time the move was not to attack him.

There was sound of more crumbling stone and wood somewhere to the Prince's right and he hoped vehemently that it wasn't another creature. He looked over is shoulder to Aara as best he could despite the snapping jaws close to his own face. He called out to her but before he could do much else the corrupted beast bore down on him and he was forced to turn his attention to the task at hand. He let himself sink less than an inch, felt the strength gather in his legs and an in an instant he leapt forward shoving the creature back and slashing forward with his scimitar.

The creature dodged back and only the tip of his sword connected, drawing a slim line across the creature's foreleg. He prepared for an attack but movement caught his eye and he dodged as a third corrupted wolf ran at him. The Prince turned and deflected the slashing claws, taking the chance to rake his own-clawed gauntlet across the creatures face. It howled and retreated a few steps covering its wounded eye. Without a chance to check on Aara he turned back to his other adversary. The thing reared again and the Prince blocked, holding himself just out of tooth range. There was the sound of footsteps and the snap of heavy cloth behind him.

"Hold it steady!" Aara darted low past the Prince in a rush of white, green and black. She slipped between the fighters, and from a near-kneeling crouch, struck upwards with a long kopis-shaped knife. With a swift motion she buried the blade into the underside of the creature and leapt upwards to slice it open. The corrupted creature howled and the Prince threw it backwards and Aara quickly ducked out his way and he slashed deep into its chest with his sword. The creature reeled but before the Prince could finish the creature Aara grasped his wrist tightly again, pulling him backwards.

"We have to go; Now!" The Prince glanced around, eyes flickering from enemy to enemy. The third creature to have appeared was tearing its way out of Aara's red scarf that she had tied its face and claws with. The one whose eye he had damaged was nearly recovered and circling again, and though the other seemed severely wounded, a fourth creature had appeared at its painful call. He was loath to admit that it might be too much for him to handle but being killed by the corruption so easily would be a bigger pain in his ego. So he gave in and followed the woman's lead.

Aara took off at her blistering pace, long knife still in hand, across the rooftops. They could hear howling and footsteps of the creatures much too close behind them. Suddenly Aara leapt ahead, smashing deliberately down through a patchy roof. They twisted through the building and then out into an alleyway.

"I tried to warn you," Aara spoke over her shoulder and through panting breaths. "These creatures, wolves or whatever they are, they move in packs or groups." They ducked between some collapsed buildings and suddenly the Prince understood where she was going. The road widened a little before disappearing into a small walking tunnel built into the rock. There was no end to the tunnel and no way to get over it without climbing a great deal of sheer stone and jagged inclines.

"But there are places like these where they can be fought with much greater ease." The tunnel was wide enough for the two to stand abreast with room to spare but the creatures wouldn't be able to pass into the tunnel without running into one or both of them. The Prince could see the creatures approaching from all different directions and angles and he and the woman moved backwards, a little deeper into the tunnel. The corrupted wolves were funneled together and fell in single file at the mouth of the tunnel. The first of the beings reached the Prince and attacked with teeth and claws. But the Prince blocked easily with his sword and swung, gouging with his gauntlet. The blow landed and the creature was forced back a step. It reared then, to attack with claws but the tunnel roof was low and Prince easily blocked the beast's awkward strike. Suddenly Aara's arm darted over the Prince's shoulder and past his face to stick the blade of her knife into the animal's throat. The creature reeled back and the Prince swung again, all but taking off its head.

There was a hiss like burning acid as the corruption seemed to melt away from dead bones, but neither human bothered to look as another creature moved to attack in place of the fallen one. This one lunged but the Prince was becoming used the corruption's patterns and skewered its right foreleg with his scimitar and ripped into its exposed throat with his gauntlet claws. When the body slumped to the floor he prepared himself for the next attack but what remained of the "pack" seemed hesitant. The Prince was wary, having never seen low forms of corruption like this act in such a way. Finally the "leader" of the group howled and, with hungry eyes, backed away and disappeared into the ruins of city.

The Prince could only stare at the retreating forms of the animals. Corruption didn't retreat, not simple corruptions like these, these forms pressed on with only the instinct to devour. They didn't have self-preservation, they didn't have strategy, they only manifested and hunted victims without distinction. He had never seen corruption with proper bones either, unless it was manifested within living humans. The Prince was at a loss to understand anything but Aara tugged at him again, and lead the way through the tunnel.

After a decent walk in the near blackness of the tunnel, they immerged onto a brightly lit street. There was a wall to one side and the hot wind blew over it from off the desert. The other side was lined with small buildings that might have been houses. Aara led the way down the street then between some of the buildings and up a small set of ancient worn stairs. Soot covered the walls and collected in the corners and they both tried to avoid touching the black mess.

"There is a safe place here that we can rest for a moment and treat your wounds." Aara pointed a little farther up the crooked stairs to a heavy metal gate that was off both its hinges.

"Wounds?" the Prince asked confused. He felt fine and he couldn't see any injuries on the girl. She turned around suddenly, looking down from her slightly higher ground, and jabbed him in the forehead. It hurt. A lot. And he suddenly felt thick blood drip down past his eye and saw the red stain on the end of her finger. He frowned, almost a pout, and followed her without a word as she knocked the broken gate aside. They slipped down another extremely narrow alleyway between two tall stone buildings and suddenly emerged in an immaculate, green and growing garden.


	4. Wolves

"Wounds?" the Prince asked confused. He felt fine and he couldn't see any injuries on the girl. She turned around suddenly, looking down from her slightly higher ground, and jabbed him in the forehead. It hurt. A lot. And he suddenly felt thick blood drip down past his eye and saw the red stain on the end of her finger. He frowned, almost a pout, and followed her without a word as she knocked the broken gate aside. They slipped down another extremely narrow alleyway between too tall stone buildings and suddenly emerged in an immaculate, green and growing garden.

"Fertile ground…" he exhaled, frankly unable to control his surprise. The garden was small, hardly more than a gap between stony buildings, close on all sides with a punch of sky overhead. But in every corner green things grew; grass and weeds, flowers and small trees. In the center of the garden was a modest white fountain that quietly trickled pure clean water.

The garden might once have been well kept but it had obviously been ignored for some time. There were fragments of plaster, pottery and other refuse scattered around the garden. Weeds grew between the paving stones, some letting off little cottony seeds that floated aimlessly through the atrium. There were birds here too, only a few tiny brightly colored birds pecking at old dry seeds, but birds nonetheless. Insects too, small butterflies, moths and tiny beetles buzzed and fluttered in the small sanctuary.

For a moment the Prince's heart jumped to his throat with thoughts of Elika. Only one person could purify the fertile grounds and ward away corruption. But as quickly as the feelings came they left him, feeling a little empty. The sacred grounds he had visited with Elika, even before she purified them one by one, had an aura to them. They caused a sensation all through him like a shiver. But this place, beautiful and safe as it may seem, didn't have that aura of magic and light the way the fertile grounds did. It was strange though, he admitted to himself, how similar the garden was.

Aara crossed the stones to the small fountain and threw her face into the water to drink. She splashed in the cool water, cleaning sweat and sand from her skin as best she could before checking and tightening her bandages. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the Prince looking around at the tiny atrium.

"The water here is clean, and it is a safe place to rest, I can swear that to you."

"What is this place? How can you know its safe?" the Prince let his wandering gaze settle on her.

"This place? It's just a normal garden. There are particularly strong lines of power that cross this city though, and sometimes they produce strange phenomena. In this case: warding off corruption. Obviously; before the corruption came, the city took no notice of these kinds of areas because, well, there was no way to detect "anti-corruption" areas." She waved impatiently at him, gesturing him over and staring pointedly at the gash on his forehead, which he had promptly forgotten about. When he had been injured in the past Elika had healed him quickly, and before that he might have just tied his scarf tighter over the wound until it stopped bleeding.

"What do mean 'lines of power' and what kind of phenomena?" he asked, though he knew damn well about what she meant, and looked around again while sauntering lazily to the fountain.

"Lines of power: they are like currents of energy that run over and through the earth like rivers. Sacred places, temples, tombs, altars, and the like are often built on them. In the ocean beyond this mountain there was a great calamity that essentially laid the foundations of this city. If we reach the top you'll be able to see the very site where the calamity occurred.

But because of that event, there is now a network of leylines that pass through this mountain. In some places where they are particularly strong we have built special temples. Those who are spiritually or magically gifted are said to be able to draw power from these places. And now, places like these provide sanctuary for the citizens as they escape the city. Take the scarf off."

"But the scarf is lucky." He smirked at her.

"I don't care, take it off." Aara glared at him and then threw a hand full of water in his face. The Prince just laughed cheekily and tugged the scarf loose so it fell around his neck and shoulders. Aara had to admit, his thick brown hair looked just a little funny, stuck up in all directions and thick with sweat and sand. She reached into her small bag and pulled out a small amount of bandage cloth.

"What makes that ratty old scarf so lucky?" with the cloth she carefully and thoroughly cleaned the sand out of the gash and wiped away the blood. "Good, there is no poison or corruption in your wound."

"See? Lucky. I've had it for many years and I haven't died yet." The smirk never left his face and Aara glared briefly before rifling through her bag. She pulled out a small glass pot full of some type of medicine. The Prince watched her dip her finger in the thick, sticky substance, which smelled vaguely of honey and some kind of flower, and tilted his head away when she moved to put it on his face.

"Whoa, what is that?" Aara huffed impatiently and glared again.

"Facial cuts bleed a lot," she spoke deliberately, insinuating that he was an idiot, "and this is medicine to stop the bleeding, keep out infection, and, most importantly hide the smell of blood so those _things_ can't track us so easily." She wiped away the fresh drip of blood and smeared the thick substance along the gash in a smooth streak. The stuff worked instantly, sealing the wound and the Prince could feel the sore area cooling.

"Wow. That stuff certainly does the trick. Where did you get that medicine, I've never seen anything quite like it?"

"That's because it's a rarity, even here. It is made of special kinds of bee's wax and herbs found only in certain parts of these mountains. It's used by the best hunters because it works quickly and covers their scent." She capped the pot and carefully put it back into her bag. The Prince raised an eyebrow as he rearranged his scarf to its former arbitrary wrap.

"You don't look like a hunter to me."

"That's because I am not."

"Then why do you have it?" Aara looked at him with her own eyebrow raised before turning back to her bag.

"Because I was escaping, alone, in the desert. Silly me thought the medicine might be useful." Her tone was heavily patronizing but the Prince was undeterred.

"That must have been quite expensive, how did you afford it?" the woman paused, still looking inside her bag.

"Well, merchants fleeing for their lives are often likely to sell themselves short."

"Still, you aren't very good at hiding your gold," he reached out and tapped one of the disks that made up her necklace, "and I've never seen a merchant who wouldn't hold out for all he could, especially when he had something so valuable that he could well have used during his own escape."

"Look, if you don't want to accept my explanation that's your problem, but it's none of your business anyway!" She looked him full in the face and glared. The Prince just smiled and shrugged innocently. Looking away, Aara pulled out another small piece of dried meat from her bag and chewed it roughly. "I suggest you rest or do whatever you need to instead of harassing me. We can't stay here for long." He just grinned, filled his canteen, and began to slowly wander the area.

Not long after, Aara stood, checked that the bandage on her arm was tight and bag packed carefully, and watched the Prince drift.

"Alright, I think its time to go. We need to get farther up the city before dark." The Prince just nodded, his hand going to his sword hilt, and moved to the narrow gap they had arrived through. "No, not that way," He looked back at her, confused. Aara pointed up the crumbling wall to where the dim sun was still pouring over the edge. "This way. We'll be able to see if the wolves are still following us." The Prince grinned and made a vague gesture with his arm.

"After you, Princess." She stared at him seriously half a second, before moving to the base of the wall. Looking up, she moved slightly to her left before quickly climbing up the white wall using small ledges and cracks as hand holds. The Prince followed after easily, his gauntlet digging into the crumbling plaster and stone.

The top of the building was flat and surprisingly intact and the pair could see easily along their level of the city. There was no sign of the wolves that had been pursuing them, and the way looked clear. They had some distance to cover from where they had hidden before there was a break in the distant black cliffs and could move up to the next level of the city. Running across the rooftops and leaping easily over the gaps between buildings, it was a while before they spoke again.

"So what are these buildings? Some of them look like houses but some of them obviously are not." The Prince looked around at the varying heights of the buildings.  
"This ring would normally be occupied by soldiers. They train here, check the incoming merchants and travelers, and so on. This would be the first line of defense in the case of invasion forces so there isn't much of value here besides the armory." The travelers found them selves steadily moving higher as the buildings grew in height and moved up the slight slope. "That's why most of these buildings-" Aara was cut off by the sound of a building collapse only a few hundred paces from their current position. There was an all too familiar yelp and howl and when they looked, Aara and the Prince could saw the black flash of movement from within the rubble.

The Prince lead the way up a multi story building, using a long vertical crack for hand holds. From the half shattered roof Aara scanned the expanse of rooftops.

"There," she pointed to a cluster of varied stone buildings "in between the buildings there will be a bridge." The Prince nodded and leaped over the edge of the tower in the direction she had pointed. Twisting in the air, he reached out and caught the ledge with his gauntlet and with his feet against the wall he slid down towards the ground. As he neared the ground he jumped from the wall and landed easily on a neighboring rooftop.

Aara leaned over the edge watching him slide down she stonewall and swallowed when she guessed the distance. Frankly she knew they were in a hurry but this… her knife wouldn't be strong enough to something like that, she thought. She clenched the fingers of her bandaged hand. She sighed and jumped from the edge, turning to catch and hang from the ledge. Looking and judging the distance to a wall stone that had been forced out to allow a small ledge, she took a breath and let go of the edge. With her fingers and the balls of her feet lightly brushing the wall, Aara dropped to the small ledge and caught it with her fingers. Adjusting her grip she looked and repeated the process as she approached the ground.

When the Prince landed he was momentarily startled when Aara wasn't right behind him, he hadn't considered that she couldn't grip the wall like he could or…Elika had. He turned in time to watch her drop and grasp a crack in the wall, and a moment later the rock crumbled under her fingertips. The Prince ran to the edge of his building as she scrambled at the rock to find another grip. Looking down and seeing the ground fast approaching, Aara kicked off the wall throwing herself head-over-heels backwards. She passed over the Prince and landed a few steps behind him with a less than ideal landing. Landing first on her feet, momentum carried her backwards over her shoulder and with her good arm she let he momentum lift her up and stood again unsteadily on her feet.

"You all right?" the Prince asked seriously but he couldn't help grinning as she tried to straighten her hair and clothes. Before she could say anything, however, the pursuing wolves howled from somewhere nearby. Steady again, Aara caught eyes with the Prince and they both turned and ran for the buildings they had seen. The wolves were close, at least one was, but the Prince wasn't going to be fooled by the corruption, he knew there were others nearby and if he listened carefully he was sure he hear their wet and heavy footsteps. He'd handled worse opponents before and he refused to underestimate them again.

Leading the way, Aara jumped to another half collapsed wall and rode it as it fell down to the street and the Prince followed her down. The moment they were on the street the pursuing creatures seemed to know it and their howls told the prey they were close. Between two buildings up ahead there was, in fact, a stone bridge built to connect between two of the upper floors. It wasn't very deep but it was solid and well built and the narrow alleyway that lead up to the underpass made it as good a place to fight as any. Halfway under the bridge Aara slid to a stop and turned around. The Prince turned too and drew his sword, gauntlet up and ready to fight.

Another howl echoed between the stone buildings and suddenly the wolves seemed to explode from various directions into the narrow hallway. As one barreled forward between the walls, another screamed down from the roof of a building, and the pair could see one of the creature's eyes was blacked out. It was the same pack that had hunted them earlier. The Prince waited, patiently, as the creatures approached and the as the first wolf lunged; he was ready with a smirk.

With an explosive force he deflected the attack with his sword and with a movement faster than lightning he drew the sword back and slashed at the creature. It drew back, stunned and cried out to its fellows and the one eyed wolf answered back and jumped down form the roof. Aara could see a third wolf behind the others and while she never let her eyes leave their forms, she left her senses open in case others crossed the bridge and attacked from behind.

The injured creature lunged at the Prince, slashing with teeth and claws struck again. The Prince grasped one of the creature's forelimbs and, heaving against the creature's bulk, threw it to the side and he struck down with his long sword. From his low position on the ground the Prince twisted his sword into the creature and it howled as it died. He looked up suddenly, as another wolf cried, and saw the one-eyed one charging. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand from his half kneeling position and braced himself, but in the same instant, with a faint whistle, Aara's knife flew and stabbed into the center of the animal's head. Hardly a breath later, the Prince felt a weight on his shoulder and suddenly saw Aara, as she vaulted over him and attacked the thing. With a twist of her flying body she kicked her heel directly into the base of the knife, driving it deep to the hilt into the creatures head.

Using the same momentum, she kicked off the creatures face, jumping back behind the Prince. He stood instantly, not missing a beat, and slashed the creature across the throat. A last howl gurgled in its throat as the creature's head slid away from its body. The black body slumped with a wet smack over its other fallen comrade as the corruption began to melt away from the forms. In a single movement Aara darted forward, though well within the safety of the Prince's sword, and pulled her knife from the disintegrating body. With a flick of the wrist she shook off the evaporating black slime and stepped back into a ready stance behind the Prince.

But there were still more wolves and the third of the animals moved forwards, albeit with more caution than the Prince. He took in the creature's hungry stare and braced himself, bringing his gauntlet up to guard. The corrupted wolf darted forward, this time low to the ground and streamlined, and the Prince blocked the upward strike. At the same moment darting motion from one of rooftops caught Aara's attention. There was a blur and then the dull clatter of stones overhead. She spun around and held up her knife as another of the creatures jumped down from the bridge and turned to face her.

"There's another one here." Her voice was steady without betraying the seriousness of the statement. The Prince threw a quick glance over his shoulder and cursed loudly. The third wolf attacked again and the Prince countered viciously, wasting no time in throwing the creature back. But instead of staying under the bridge he charged out after the stunned creature where he had more space to maneuver. He struck upwards with his sword and as the creature reeled, slashed again with a two handed grip. The force was so great the corrupted wolf was lifted off its feet. He grasped the creature in the air and threw it sideways into a stony wall. The Prince slashed and stabbed again, trying to strike the final blow. At the last second he managed to jump backwards out of the reach of the last member of the corrupted pack.

Aara knew that the only way to fight a pack of the damned creatures was to do it one on one, and the only way to fight them one on one was to fight in a narrow walled off space. But she wasn't equipped or skilled to fight such strong opponents in those types of spaces, and it wall all she could do to stay out of reach of the wolf. Her knife was too short and narrow to be of use to block more than once. Behind her, she could hear he Prince fighting and felt him move farther away than she had expected. Aara clenched her fist, resisting the desperate urge to look over her shoulder. She could feel the sudden vulnerable empty space at her back but she knew if she took her eyes off the creature it would be all over.

The wolf's jaws snapped, missing her by just a breath, and Aara slashed with her knife, aiming for the creature's eyes. The creature dodged and the knife just grazed its nose. She widened her stance and listened desperately to the Prince behind her hoping he was holding up ok. There was a clang from somewhere behind her and a sudden brief yell. A shock ran through her and she forgot the creature in front of her, whipping around to see what had happened. The Prince was fine, having just dodged a vicious pair of jaws, but Aara instantly recognized her mistake.

She managed to raise her left arm at the last moment to block a strike that would have taken her head off, but the impact knocked her on her back and made her bones ring. She coughed gasping for the breath that had been knocked from her chest. The wolf attacked, aiming for her throat and Aara was forced to roll up and over her shoulders to dodge in time. She crouched in wide stance, sucking in air between her teeth, and the wolf lunged again for her head. She lunged forward with her back leg, keeping her body low. At the last moment she let her front leg fold underneath her and leaned back, sliding just under the set of snapping jaws, and drove her long knife up into the creatures soft jaw and through its skull. She rolled back, swinging both her legs up and from her back she kicked up into the animal's throat. The corrupted wolf reeled back on its hind legs and for a moment it paused there, hovering dangerously, before it collapsed backwards and went still.

The Prince had sustained a small wound across his chest, just below his collarbones, but he hardly noticed. One of the creatures staring him down was fading fast; limping heavily and bleeding black ooze, but not nearly fast enough. He blocked one attack and then another, trying to find an opening. He could hear a scuffle behind him and the heavy sound of a body hitting the ground but he didn't bother looking around. The wounded creature lunged but the Prince stood his ground. Deflecting one of the creature's claws with the flat of his sword, he ignored the pain as the other claw grazed his other side. With the creature so close, the Prince sank his gauntlet claws into it throat, halting its snapping jaws, and threw all his strength into the body and threw the creature into the air. He arched back, putting all the leverage of body into a downward sword swing. His blade struck the wolf's body across its chest and shoulder, the force throwing the limp black body crashing into the last wolf.

The last wolf shook off its fallen pack mate and advanced on the Prince again. A normal wolf would have retreated, knowing its prey was not worth the risk, but the black misshapen creature had no such instincts. The last creature seemed to die almost too easily. It dove at the Prince, claws extended and teeth bared, but he didn't blink. He slashed three times, so quickly it was nearly impossible to dodge. The first strike cut across the wolf's chest, the second nearly severed its foreleg, and the third caught it across the ribs and belly. He swung once more with his gauntlet in a fist and smashed into its head and threw it into the wall. From the force of his blow he knew the corrupted wolf was dead before it flopped to the ground.

The Prince turned, hoping Aara was ok, and found her pulling her dagger from the black mess of a wolf corpse. She straightened and flicked the knife carefully, splattering the black substance on the ground where it quickly evaporated. Seeing this the Prince sheathed his sword and looked down at himself, touching the tips of his ungloved fingers to the wounds on his chest and arms, testing their severity, until something caught his eye. As the blackness retreated into the earth, sun bleached bones became visible beneath the viscous shadow.

The Prince walked over the where two of the creatures had fallen and kicked at the pile of dry bones. There were some he thought he could recognize, but none of them seemed to fit together. He wanted to see the skulls in the heads, because those would be distinctive, and part of him wanted to know what the bones were doing there at all. Corruption and corrupted soldiers, as far as he could recall, were formed of the otherworldly shadow itself. Only they four corrupted generals might still have had bones, because they were supposedly formed directly from people, but the Prince even had his doubts about them.

"What are they?" Aara asked from behind and to his side. She stepped closer to the mess of bones, bending forward a little to get a closer look.

"I'm not sure." He kicked at the bones and some of them broke into pieces like they were made of charred wood. The blackness melted away from one of the heads revealing a long narrow skull with sharp teeth.

"Most of these are wolf bones but some of these… some of these are too large to belong to a wolf." Aara winced as a spear of pain shocked through her strained shoulder. Rolling the joint, she could tell that she would be sore there for several days, though luckily it was not her dominant arm. "We should move on," she murmured to the Prince, "we aren't far from the stair to the second ring. And we don't want to attract another pack of these… wolves."

"How about your arm, you ok?" He asked but began to walk anyway. Aara glanced pointedly at the slowly oozing cuts on the Prince's chest and arm.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about your own wounds?" He looked himself over, as if just noticing where he was cut for the first time, grinning.

"Yeah, I suppose so! You got any more of that stuff you used on my eye?" he grinned directly at her in an almost innocent way, and Aara looked subtly exasperated, though the effect was lessened by the smile on her face.

"This ointment is really not meant for such large wounds. You should bandage them yourself or else avoid getting them all together." She produced the pot from her bag and removed the lid. "You know it is a sin to use good medicine on idiots. If did not owe you a debt I might just let you bleed out." Her words were harsh but the tone was light and there was no meaning behind them so the Prince just laughed and wiped the blood from his arm.

As they walked, the Prince did his best to clean his wounds and Aara smeared thin lines of ointment over his cuts. The Prince was grateful, even if his playful demeanor belittled Aara's assistance, and he hoped that her shoulder would still be ok to fight with. From the corner of his eye he saw a silhouette, hovering in the distance, almost out of his sight that had made his heart quicken and blood turn cold. It had been nearly indistinct but he could never forget that form. As quickly as it had appeared on the edge of some distant buildings, it had vanished into the evening shadows. The Hunter was here.


	5. In Traps Laid

As they walked, the Prince did his best to clean his wounds and Aara smeared thin lines of ointment over his cuts. The Prince was grateful, even if his playful demeanor belittled Aara's assistance, and he hoped that her shoulder would still be ok to fight with. From the corner of his eye he saw a silhouette, hovering in the distance, almost out of his sight that had made his heart quicken and blood turn cold. It had been nearly indistinct but he could never forget that form. As quickly as it had appeared on the edge of some distant buildings, it had vanished into the evening shadows. The Hunter was here.

"So tell me," the Prince needled as they jogged from rooftop to rooftop, "wherever did a girl like you learn to fight, and with a knife like that?" After an interlude of silence where the travelers had climbed again to the rooftops and snacked briefly on what food supplies they had, the Prince had decided his breath was best spent on prodding Aara for information about herself. On the one had, he was purely curious, and on the other; he had learned that sometimes the back-story had a way of being connected to the events at hand.

"My older brothers taught me." The Prince couldn't help being surprised by the suddenly forthcoming answer. "Its not really appropriate behavior for a… well, for a woman but when by brothers realized they would be unable to watch over me every moment of my life, and I refused to let them try, they taught me to protect myself instead." She paused half glancing at the Prince as she hopped from roof to roof. "I knows that its very unusual but we are a city who see a lot of travelers, merchants and others, and some of them aren't exactly trust worthy." she smiled oddly, "and it was my vice that I enjoyed visiting the merchant square and some of the shadier market places."

"My mother used to warn me about girls like you. Keep away from them, she said." The Prince laughed, and Aara just glared hard.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" she bit out. Of course, the Prince never wavered under the sharp tones.

"Women with older brothers. If you enjoy living with all your body parts." Aara's face softened and she snorted, looking ahead to their goal. A slow smile crossed her face, as if she were recalling some fond memory. But as quickly as the lightness returned she suddenly seemed to darken again.

"Yeah those with older brothers." The pause was so heavy even the Prince's cocky smile was suppressed under it. "I'm the oldest now." The implication was obvious, and it was killing him to ask, to confirm what he instantly suspected to be true. So the Prince held his tongue between his teeth and with a brief glance, asked a different question he already knew the answer to: "Why a dagger?" there was a pause.

"It is actually traditional." The Prince regained his former demeanor. "For their personal protection women began to wear ornamental daggers as jewelry long ago when our city was young. And a sword is not considered appropriate for a woman. My father and mother would never have allowed me to carry one. It would have been a bit much." A thought seemed to come to her and she looked at the Prince. "Your sword is quite unique and elegant. I don't think I've ever seen one quite like it, even from the master smiths and traveling merchants. And your glove too. Where did you learn combat and swordsmanship, your style is also something I've never seen before?"

"Its not so strange when you've seen the world. My weapons and skills are boring in comparison to the bizarre forms I've seen. There are places where the people wield blades as long as their bodies."

"You didn't answer my question." Though Aara's expression was neutral, he knew he was damn well caught. He laughed lightly, carefully avoiding some crumbling roofing.

"Its something I picked up. You don't get far in my profession without a little skill."

"Oh and what exactly is your profession, "prince"? And you still didn't answer my question." She stressed sarcasm into title, falling a little behind the Prince so they could run along a wall and avoid a nasty black stain of corruption. "You seem normal enough; you don't make a good impression by dodging simple questions like that, you know." The Prince pretended to miss a step and stumble, a faux look of hurt on his face.

"Normal? You are such a cruel heart." Aara laughed quietly; the first time he had ever heard it from the serious woman. "As for my profession; I am a collector, by trade I suppose. Which it partly why my Farah is so important to me, and speaking of which I hope we get there soon, I don't want to leave her alone by the gates for too long. The last time I left her for a long time she ended up in a sandstorm and it took me days to find her."

"Why is she so important to you? She's just a donkey."

"Well, she's a very good donkey." There was quiet for a moment, Aara half expecting him to add something more, but when nothing came she wondered if he'd expected her to laugh. Either way, the moment was quickly lost and her thoughts moved on.

"Its interesting then," her voice was serious again, "if she is so important to you then I wonder who it is that is so much more important in this city." This time the Prince stayed silent, his face betraying nothing. At the sudden change in mood, part of Aara was almost sorry she had said anything, but none of her would admit it. "Its not as if telling will make me leave you stranded. I still owe it to you to be your guide." She attempted to console the seriousness she had created. But to her dismay, the silence continued. "You know," her voice was sharp and she went for another tactic. "You aren't very good at this at all. I say something and then you are supposed to say something back to me. Its how a conversation works." This time the Prince looked thoughtful.

"Considering talking to you can be like pulling teeth sometimes, I don't think you really have the right to say that." She smiled a little and with the morale improvement she let the conversation go, for the time being. Running along the support crossbeam of a collapsed roof they could see a wide gap in the buildings ahead.

"Look, that's the causeway and there," at the edge of the sea of buildings the prince could see a long wide set of stairs cut directly into the low cliff of black rock. "That is the Merchant Stairway. The steps are cut wide and low so that they are easy to climb for livestock, merchants with heavy burdens, travelers, etc."

They paused at the edge of the roofs, listening for the sound of wolves and watching for the movement of any other corruption, not wanting to walk easily into a trap. When the way seemed clear they jumped down and began the long trek up the steps. Each stair was as wide as a man's stride and easy height to manage. But the low height of each step meant the full stairway was impressively long, and the walls on either side made the Prince feel trapped and wary. He knew what he had seen in the distance earlier; there could be no mistake.

His every step was cautious, on the alert for the Hunter's infamous traps. There was no doubt the Hunter was watching them, probably stalking them at that very moment. But he hadn't told Aara what he knew and wouldn't until he had to. He had considered it, but although she had taken everything well so far the Prince was unsure how she react to the information, and with the Hunter so close he didn't want to risk it. "There are wolves on at least two or three levels, as far as I know." Aara broke silence the Prince's chain of thought. Although her voice was deliberately low, it echoed off the stone walls.

"Keep your eyes open for them when we reach the top. At the head of these stairs there is a large open square where the merchants would gather. It is an ideal place for the wolves to ambush us." The Prince's hand found his sword. "But once we are past the entrance; we will have a good range of vision and I don't think the wolves will attack there." All other forms of corruption that the Prince had experienced, save the formless sludge that crept along and tried to devour everything, attacked in singles.

Nearing the top of the stairs, their pace slowed to deliberate, silent steps, and the Prince instinctively moved a step ahead of his companion. There was no movement that he could see on any horizon and no sound aside from the wind and his own beating heart. The smooth black stone of the top step shone in the high light of the sun, and the higher levels of the city appeared in the background, he could even make out the spires of the palace near the top. Even their breathing went silent as the pair moved to the top stair and paused.

Nothing.

They moved forward, and the vast space Aara had spoken of came into view. It was a large open space that spanned the depth of the city tier, from one stairway to the next. The area was covered in soft white sand that caught the light, and it must have been imported because the mountains were dark brown and black and the desert was red. One could imagine the open square full of people and merchant tents all lined up, demonstrations and performers flitting about, livestock in pens. It would have been an impressive sight. As it was, the yard looked like a massive gravesite of tents and temporary shelters. Once-colorful canvas and linens, which would have made eye-catching tents, hung in shreds from broken poles and wagons and trampled by thousands of feet. On the far side were steps leading upwards, cut of the same black stone and a once immaculately carved arch had half crumbled at the base of the stair.

They moved through the rubble like ghosts, looking around and always alert to the possibility of enemies, but the farther they got from the restricting stairs, the more they allowed themselves to relax some. Both had their respective weapons drawn, Aara carefully holding her left arm close to her body to protect her aching shoulder. The longer the square remained so deathly silent, the more concerned they both became.

They were nearly to the center of the marketplace, halfway between the two stairways, when the danger finally revealed itself. Ten paces from the next flight of wide black stairs a black pool of corruption boiled on the sand, tossing and spitting into the air. The Prince stopped, sword at the ready, as a magical aura stirred the blackness and it began to take shape.

Corruption spat high in the air, nearly twice the height of the Prince himself, hovering and widening as more black ooze seemed to climb up the column from the ground, branching and taking form. Two great forelimbs appeared; they were too long to be proportionate to the body, and each possessed set of four long razor claws. The creature's head was like a lion complete with glinting white teeth and snarling jaws. It had no tail, but a pair of crooked hind limbs that bent and carried like a wolf's. The black seemed to solidify and the creature's yellow eyes opened and focused on the travelers before it. The mismatched bear let out a roar that made the earth shake, and lumbered forward with its awkward two-legged gait.

"Have you seen this _thing_ before?" The Prince asked quietly.

"Over my shoulder as I ran from the city."

As the creature neared the Prince and Aara gagged on the air that had suddenly filled with the smell of rotting meat, which they suspected was its breath. The bear-lion took another step, roaring once more, and the Prince took his cue to attack. It swiped and though its strike was wide and slow, the power was overwhelming. He darted forward; zigzagging to avoid the creatures claws and leapt up to strike at the creature's face.

The sound of the Prince's sword was sharp enough to hurt. The blade bounced back from the creatures hide, singing like it had been struck with a hammer. The beast swung again and this time connected with the stunned Prince, throwing him backwards into the sand and rubble. The lumbering beast struck with sudden swiftness, springing forward with its coiled hind legs to pounce on its downed quarry. The Prince rolled to the side at the last moment and hurried to his feet, only to be jerked backwards by Aara to avoid a low swipe by the animal.

"What's wrong, why couldn't you hit him?" she demanded, letting go of the back of his collar. The Prince growled to himself. Why didn't he see it before?

"See that thin blue aura? It's magic. Nothing I do will be able to injure it, unless that magic is dispelled." The blue magic hovered like mist as if daring the Prince to strike again. This was bad. This was Ahriman's magic, which meant two things; first, that the creature would be essentially invincible to his sword, and secondly; that the old god of darkness was aware of their presence. The travelers were forced back by a succession of violent but sluggish attacks by the bear-lion.

"Stand firm!" Aara yelled suddenly from behind the Prince and out of instinct he complied; planting his feet in a strong defensive stance. The creature swung again, and the Prince blocked, though not without difficulty. As he strained under the force of the strike he suddenly felt Aara's sudden weight on his right shoulder. As quickly as he felt the pressure it was gone and he saw Aara jump from her perch, knife in hand, at the creature. With both hands she drove the long blade into the joint where its neck met the left shoulder. Before she had a chance to do anything else, the creature turned its massive head and she was forced to jump away to avoid it's snapping jaws. But the damage was done; the creature had sustained an injury and the Prince had seen the aura recede from area a moment before Aara's weapon pierced the creature's body.

"How did you do that?" he demanded as she landed just behind him. Taking a step back to allow the Prince more space to maneuver she adjusted her grip on the blade, flicking corrupted sludge from the polished metal.

"My knife. It is an artifact of my family, it must contain some sort of power." He nodded, and leaped backwards out of the creature's striking range, Aara followed suit. "Then," he thought aloud, "we'll have to try it again." They both jumped back again to put even more space between them and their adversary and the corrupted bear began to lumber as best it could towards them. They circled slowly to the left in an attempt to maintain their distance.

Aara broke the tense silence, stepping suddenly up to the Prince's shoulder. "Your sword!" The Prince paused misstep, surprised.

"What?"

"My blade is too short to do enough damage, but a wound from your sword might be enough to disrupt its aura." Her words came low and quick.

"Preceded by your knife…" he nodded suddenly, and changed his stance. "Ok." He lunged forward, still keeping to the left, and struck at the advancing bear. Slash, block, and slash again, he attacked in rapid succession until with one furious stroke he sent the huge beast reeling. It roared, tilting back with the force of his blow and in the same instant he could hear quick footsteps behind him.

Before the creature could recover Aara shouted; "Turn now!" and the Prince threw his scimitar high in the air before spinning around in time to see Aara's last few steps as she came towards him. In a single fluid motion Aara stepped up into empty air and the Prince caught her foot, throwing her up with both hands. At the peak of the arch she jumped up and twisted in the air, high enough to be able to look straight down at the corrupted black bear.

Reaching up, she caught the tossed sword and threw her knife with her right hand as best she could. The blade skimmed over the creature's skull, before sticking firmly in the sand behind it. Her body tumbled over itself in the air as she reached the peak of her jump and as she turned to face her target she threw the Prince's large sword with her left arm.

In the space of a split second the long blade sank deep into the giant bear's shoulder, and Aara landed, one foot on the blade and one foot on the handle to force the vertical sword downward like a guillotine until it was horizontal to the earth. The great beast roared and shook her from its back and she rolled away as best she could.

The creature rounded as fast as its bulk could manage and set its sights on the small human. The Prince took his chance, with a few quick steps and the help of his gauntlet he climbed up the back of the bear, digging his claws into it's flesh, until he could reach the hilt of his sword. He withdrew the blade and jumped backwards, landing ready to strike again, protective aura clearly disbursed. Roaring in pain the bear returned to its old opponent.

He knew he had to be quick, if the Prince hesitated for too long the magical aura could return and all his attacks would be useless again. So his attacks came fast, taking advantage of the creature's wounded shoulder. He countered a blow from its uninjured arm, and then slashed at its waist and legs to bring it to its knees. The beast lurched off balance, catching itself on its overlong forelimb. The moment it was off balance he slashed at its face and torso, and dug his clawed gauntlet into the open shoulder wound. The beast roared and the Prince jumped back, but the fight was almost over. His feet had barely touched the sand when he was in the air again.

With his blade he knocked the bear's head to the side, cutting open its cheek. With his gauntlet he dug his long claws into the creature's steadily growing shoulder wound, and before it had the chance to bite his head off, the Prince drove his sword through its wide black head.

The Prince pulled his blade from the creature's body and drew back from the swaying beast. Aara, knife in hand, sprinted around the bear as quickly as she could, to stand next to the Prince. The corrupted bear-lion's eyes had already gone dark, but it managed to stand straight for several long moments before tilting dangerously to one side and half collapsing, half melting into a black mass of sludge and mismatched bones on the sand.

The fight had unintentionally pushed Aara and the Prince back towards the first flight of stairs. With three quarters of the open square between them and the next set of steps, they were extremely cautious as they moved to cross the empty space. The Prince felt the disturbance in the sand first, a vibration humming through a fragment of wood beneath his feet. But Aara was the first to react. The sands shifted beneath her soles and she looked all around to see the entire market square quietly, almost subtly, shifting.

The quiet air was cut by an almighty groan and creek as if some great ship timbers were being forced along one another. There was the shudder of a strange and ancient mechanism and suddenly all the sand and debris began to drop off into a pattern of sinkholes across the entire field. Before he could react Aara had already twisted her fingers into the Prince's leather and jerked him to the side. Taking two long steps to her left she stood on a relatively still mound of sand and pulled the Prince close enough that he was nearly standing on her feet.

"This is one of our city's final defenses! It traps anyone caught standing on it but it can't be activated on its own… there should be no one is here to-" The Prince was suddenly rigid, gauntlet griping Aara's shoulder, and he looked around scanning all of his surroundings.

"It's a trap! The Hunter must be here."

"What?" Aara looked up at him, confused, but concerned by the dark look on his face.

"One of Ahriman's most powerful soldiers." The sands around them had sunk into deep pits and they had to constantly shift their own feet to keep from getting drawn into the surrounding sinkholes. It became quite obvious after a short time that the sand was disappearing in a pattern. Straight lines of depressions in the sand stretched from stairway to stairway, devouring the wreckage of the old merchant tents. The place where they were standing seemed to the Prince to be an intersection of four of the sand holes, and appeared relatively stable even as the sands drained away, forming an x of semi stable land.

"What is this?" the Prince demanded.

"This is an old defense. In case an army made it past the first ring of the city they would have to come up those stairs to make it farther. And under the entire market square is a giant pit with a mechanism that holds up the sands. In a matter of a few minutes the entire market will be gone." As she spoke the bottoms of the sinking sand holes seemed to fall out into a great black void. The only sand that remained was what rested on the strange latticework of supports that spanned the entire area.

As soon as the commotion on the surface seemed to still, a great stench rose up like a flood and covered the square. It was so strong one could almost see it floating in the air, and it drew attention to the great space below the trap's lattice floor. Looking down, there wasn't just an empty dungeon with space for prisoners; the entire place had been filled with black consuming corruption. It rippled thickly, having completely devoured the sand and wreckage, and Aara noticed with quiet terror the ooze seemed to flow and stretch upwards towards them, as if it were trying to reach the place where they stood.

The sharp tightening of the Prince's gauntlet on her shoulder tore Aara's eyes from the sea of corruption below her. She was sure he was fully aware of the danger below them, but his eyes were trained some distance away, between them and the ascending stairway.

A great black pillar of black ooze rose from a junction in the lattice, similar to the one that had spawned the bear not moments ago. The strange column undulated as if it was alive, and the base rippled outwards along the narrow wooden beams. The Prince's grip tightened again and he turned as best he could to face the enemy. His sword was already drawn before Aara noticed him reach for it, which was impressive considering the proximity the wooden beams forced on them.

"Prepare yourself." His voice was low and dangerous, "the Hunter is coming."

A laugh cut through the empty air before the corruption had even taken its complete form and it resonated down to Aara's bones. It was high and cruel and reverberated from wall to wall, flowing with the corrupted tide below. Everything else went silent under that laugh and the travelers were so affected they even stopped breathing. The voice was not what either of them had expected, the Prince 100 times more so than Aara. His eyes burned but he did not blink as the corruption took shape.

"So, little prince, you have found yourself another princess to keep you company. What a heartbreaker you are." The shapeless corruption grew and twisted, becoming slick silk and hair. Pink color spread across the black corruption like a creeping stain. The creature that congealed was all curves and flowing fabric, with a long, black, slender tail and feet stolen from a wolf. She might, thought Aara, have been very beautiful once.

"Where is the Hunter, you old bitch? I know it wasn't you that set this trap." The Prince's words were harsh and dangerous but the Concubine was not impressed. Her bright eyes narrowed and with a smile like a knife blade she looked the Prince over, shifting her weight provocatively.

"Don't you mean; where is your darling princess of light?" His jaw tightened. "I know as well as you, that you didn't come all this way just to play with my dear old comrade in arms." Silence stretched tight over the next few moments, taut like pulled leather. The Prince locked eyes with the corrupted general but her toothy grin never faded. The corrupted soldier began to take long smooth slow strides towards the Prince, almost seeming to vanish for an instant and reappear closer and closer. Aara felt his grip flinch tighter with every step she took.

She was close, easily within striking range but the Prince still didn't move. The Concubine leaned closer and her breath made Aara's skin crawl but she didn't dare move. When her eyes were finally level with the Prince's, she whispered almost too quietly to hear. "She's here you know, in this city."

The Prince's swing was nearly too fast to see, and Aara missed it in a blink but his speed was not enough and the polished blade only managed to cut through a curtain of black smoke. The Concubine was laughing again, loud and long, when she appeared back where she had first formed. The Prince had released Aara' shoulder and turned completely to face the corrupted soldier properly, ready to strike again.

"Where is she!" he demanded in a rough voice, which only seemed to make the Concubine laugh more.

"Anxious to trade your new princess back for the old? Well, between you and me your old darling isn't quite so keen on returning to you." Her tail flicked from side to side, wrapping delicately around her ankles only to twitch away and curve over the wooden beams a moment later. "Well, I couldn't blame the dear. I told you your love wouldn't last, not for a brutish man like you." Her voice had become harsh by then, biting like cold. "Not when there are such fine men in the world as my new pets." From the flowing darkness beside her, two columns of corruption rose in a familiar pattern. The Prince prepared to fight more enemies as the shapes formed, quickly taking on recognizable patterns.

A man appeared, on the Concubine's left, with loose black hair that fell past his shoulders. He was dressed like a rich man and handsome in blue, high quality fabrics easily recognizable despite the grime and stain of corruption. His eyes were like Aara's and his face was blank. Another man took shape on the Concubine's other side, hair shorter and pulled back away from his face, and obviously younger. He too was dressed in stained clothes that matched well with his brother, though the colors were deep maroon. Most startlingly, though, were the spired golden crowns, resting lopsided over their hair.

"They were good enough to activate some of this towns old machinery, like this little trap, for me." She stroked the older man's cheek but his blank eyes did not respond.

They're royalty, thought the Prince, heirs to the throne. He opened his mouth, ready to ignore the men and threaten the cowardly demon, but he was cut off mid-breath.

"Cyrus, Barid!" Aara's scream was piercing. She cried out from behind the Prince, using all her will power not to dash around him. "What have you done to my brothers, demon!" The Concubine's eyes narrowed on the girl.

"What have I done? Nothing at all, little girl. They came all on their own; with just a smile and a wink I had them. I rescued my darling pets from sure and certain death. They'd been abandoned by everyone, family, friends, servants; all dead."

"Where is Urumi? She was with them, what have you done with her?"

"I haven't the slightest." Her voice was dismissive and she huffed a little to show her distain. She turned a little to stroke the younger man's hair even as her tail wrapped carefully around the other's leg. Aara's anger seemed to boil over.

"Let my brothers go!" the Concubine trained her eyes directly on the smaller woman, narrow and dangerous.

"I think not." With her thumbnail she drew a thread of blood from the young man's cheek. "And I think its time you join your sisters, little princess." The two bewitched princes walked towards the ascending stairs at a signal from the Concubine. The darkness that had been pooling at her feet and spawned the two young men had continued to spread while Aara and the Prince were distracted. It seeped into the cracks and joints of the wood.

There was a creak and a groan and suddenly the Prince was running as fast as he could down the narrow beam of wood. He could see the Concubine's sneering face but he hadn't taken 20 steps before the creeping blackness did its job, and she vanished. Suddenly the entire giant lattice snapped and great sections began to shift. The beams the Prince ran on began to lurch forward, the supporting timbers tilting and collapsing. He leapt carefully from beam to precarious beam, constantly aware of the corruption lake that swelled beneath him.

A great section suddenly rose in front of the Prince, tilting dramatically as it sank into the black pool. He didn't pauses to consider the situation, just sprinted ahead, leaning forward to compensate for the angle. Vaguely aware of Aara running somewhere to his left, he reached the pinnacle of the collapsing wood and leapt with all his strength from the end of the fractured beam. The world seemed to slow, time hesitated from the moment the Prince's feet left the wood. He looked over the black lake below, tendrils of corruption grasping up for his ankles, to where the ends fragments of the lattice disappeared into the sand.

The Prince wasn't going to make it.

He approached the top of his arch, felt the wind hesitate as he began to change directions. He let his arms wheels slowly, as if he could slow his fall or change his direction. The Prince let his hand trail through the air as he fell, seeing the corruption rise to meet him, and just as he began to fall in earnest he felt warm fingers wrap like a vice around his wrist.

Elika, was his first thought. She had always come to save him when he needed it. Even when the Concubine had her trapped in a spell, she had broken free to save him as he jumped to certain death. Elika had always caught him. But when he looked up it was not Elika's hand delicately gripping his wrist, it was Aara. She had been behind him, jumping just a moment after he had, and come to the same conclusion as him. At the peak of her arch, Aara let her body flip, leading with her feet and throwing herself over him. With all her forward momentum she snapped her upper body forward, throwing the Prince by his wrist and he could feel the transfer of speed.

It was remarkable, when Aara released the Princes wrist, and he realized it was more than enough. He tumbled when he hit wooden beams, rolling onto hot sand and stopping some five paces from the base of the steps. He hesitated then, feeling the same strange rush he had the first time Elika had helped him across a chasm and sent him sprawling on the sand. He'd ached for a while and it had taken everything to keep his cool when she had somehow appeared at his side. He smiled and felt his heart racing from the ordeal. Just like that first time.

But it wasn't like then, he realized. This wasn't her city, and Aara wasn't Elika. The Prince's smile fell and he stared up at the daunting stairs, alone.


	6. Black

The Prince's smile fell and he stared up at the daunting stairs, alone.

A bird. It was a god damned bird that was chasing the Prince now. An enormous corrupted creature with a bird like body and a razor beak had exploded out of a collection of homes. It had no feathers on its body, only slick black ooze, and taloned feet. The only feathers it had were on its long boney wings, and when the Prince attacked the bird he found the feathers were more like solid scales that deflected his blade like steel. The damn thing was fast, its claws gripped the sandy earth and it knuckled on its wings to make sharp turns. The Prince cringed every time the creature let out an outrageous scream, and half expected the return howl of wolves.

His one relief was that however birdlike the creature was, it apparently couldn't fly. So, the Prince frantically whipped around corners and jumped on roofs, desperately searching for a building tall enough to possibly out climb the creature, and get an idea where he was. Without Aara he had no idea if the main stair was the only way to get to the next level or if he was running himself into dead end. To his chagrin this level of the city was almost entirely made up of single or two story buildings and walls separating clusters of buildings, possibly for privacy or the sole purpose of slowing down his progress.

The game of hide and seek was wearing the Prince down and the farther he ran the heavier the stench of dead bodies became. The alleyways were thick with corruption and although he couldn't see any bodies, the shapes and seeping stench, well, it didn't make him hopeful. The Prince could feel himself slowing down, his muscles burning, suffocating slowly in the oppressive air, so consumed by dodging and running he almost missed the wisp of sweet, fresh air as it hit his face. Without hesitation he threw himself down the narrow gap between two buildings.

It was the only alley he had seen without corruption and the warm sweet air was almost a breeze in the small space. Not even a length behind him, the bird creature slammed into the gap, its long beak snapping at him. He watched it press its dripping flesh against the walls holding it back, the plaster cracking and crumbling. Satisfied that the bird couldn't reach him, he pressed himself through the narrow bricked space. The air grew sweeter, overwhelming the scent of the damp walls, with a heavy floral scent.

The garden the Prince stepped into was immaculate. Polished white tiles patterned the entire space, wall to wall, and fitted and kept so well that not a single weed had place to sprout between the stones. Unlike the last garden he had come across, this one seemed well used and had no fountain or any other fixtures to interrupt the beautiful stonework. Filling his lungs with the sweet air, the Prince let himself feel his exhaustion for the first time, bent double and resting his weight on his knees. Salty, warm sweat slid into his eyes, blurring his vision. His lungs burned and he could hear his slowing heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Footsteps, light and careful echoed from across the small courtyard, and the Prince caught his breath for moment, his every muscle protesting against his sudden tension. He tried to stand upright but the moment he took his hands off his knees, his leg buckled. He held himself as upright as possible, blinking and wiping the sweat from his eyes, but his limbs all felt like stone. Though his vision was blurred he made out the shape of a human figure across the yard. And he could never forget that figure.

"Elika?" he hardly dared to open his mouth, but even as he did the slender form stepped closer, footsteps tapping on the stone. His lungs burned and he was forced to drop his eyes to the ground, muscles shuddering. The Prince sucked in another breath, the sweet scent of the air coating his mouth and throat. But it seemed no matter how deeply he inhaled, he couldn't get enough air to his exhausted body. He could taste flowers and sugar clinging to his tongue. More sweat drifted into his eyes and he pushed his shaky palm across his face to clear it away. Looking up again, he could only focus as far as Elilka's blurry legs.

"Elika…"

"My Prince… how did you find your way here?" there was a buzzing between the Prince's ears and it made it hard to focus.

"I can't believe you found your way here." The voice was soft like smoke. It was impossible, he couldn't believe he had found her, but he would know that voice anywhere. His vision was cloudy and no matter how many times he blinked it wouldn't clear. Each time his eyes closed it was harder to force them apart again. The air was so thick, so sickly sweet and heavy that he felt like he was drowning in flowers. He collapsed to one side, desperately trying to make out Elika's face before exhaustion took him and he slipped into dark unconsciousness.

Even in sleep, it seemed, he could not find relief from his weariness. He couldn't move his limbs, or at least it felt like there was weight dragging his down, like he was underwater and every movement was like pushing through mud. There was a muffled feeling all over his body, as if he were floating just below the surface, surrounded by that flowery sweet air.  
"My Prince…you…here…" the voice sounded like it was trying to speak to him through glass, vibrating somewhere off in the distance. His thoughts trailed after one another like leaves in a breeze, while he fought to make sense of everything.

"Prince…" closer this time, more a muffled whisper in his ear. "Little Prince…" His skin felt numb, bringing the pain of his muscles into sharper focus.

"Little Prince… wish?" through the fog in his mind, he struggled to understand, "Tell me… what is your wish." Wish? His thoughts turned over slowly. The voice whispered again, "what is it that you wish for most?" What did he wish for? What is that he wished for? The moment he processed the words a thought immediately jumped to the surface.

Elika. In all of his life he had wanted nothing more than to seek treasure and have all of the women and wine and anything he could ask for. It was a pretty big goal, but if anyone could have it all, it would be him. But suddenly, those weren't the words filling his thoughts. There was only one word in his mind: Elika. He wished he could find her, bring her back to him. He wished that Elika would leave the city with him, and they could travel the world, free to do and go where they wanted.

"Little Prince, tell me what you wish for…" That voice again, it washed over him like a chill through the water. He felt his lips slowly forming words. "I wish…" The heady scent was slowing him down but his wish was all he could think about. And all at once his skin was covered in ice.

"Too late, little Prince…" the sick air was filling his lungs, drowning him in honey and he suddenly became desperate to break the surface he was trapped under. It was so close, a fresh breath of air to fill his starved body. But all that the Prince found was more suffocation by flowers.

His body hit the ground, like he had rolled out of bed, the illusion broken. The harsh paving stones below him cut into his flesh and everything seemed to be in sharp detail. There was still fogginess to his vision but he could see the figure standing next to him in the garden. Pink gauzy silk floated over blackened skin, and a whip like tail snaked behind a pair of long sleek legs, twitching like a nervous cat. He could see the Concubine's lips move, eyes narrowed at the opposite wall of the garden, but it sounded like his ears were covered. The Prince gasped desperately, drawing nothing but thick suffocating sap into his lungs.

Suddenly the Concubine was gone, jumping away across the atrium, followed by a flash of cloth and black. The Concubine leapt onto the roof of the farthest building, her eyes finally meeting the Princes and her lips moved again.

"See you soon, little Prince." Though he was slipping into unconsciousness again, he could hear the words as if they were being spoken directly into his ears. He felt his body go slack against the ground. There was a face over his, not Elika's his mind recognized with melancholy, a mouth moving again, yelling so close to his. A hand smacked against his cheek but the Prince's skin was already beginning to go numb. Another smack across his face, and then eyes searching his own before he could no longer keep them open.

There was a moment of stillness, and then a pressure on his chest, slight at first and then growing until it seemed as though someone was standing on him. All at once there was the sensation that someone had tied a knot around his heart and was attempting to pull it out from between his ribs. The pain grew until he coughed, choking over himself to gasp in the suddenly abundant air. And then he was standing, his own feet fumbling underneath him, carrying only part of his weight.

He had no idea how far he stumbled or where he went, but the Prince remembered only the sense of a great weight being removed from his body, pulled out of his chest through his sternum.

When the Prince woke up he felt first to the feeling of smooth cool tiles on his back. He had been stripped to the waist, all his belongings stacked neatly next to him. Sitting up, he took stock of the bruises and scratches of the day before, the cooling sensation of balm that had been applied to his wounds, and the cool damp cloth that fell from his forehead. The Prince found himself in a stunning but sparse room. There was a delicate golden light filtering in from the doorway and a tiny window at the very top of the farthest wall. The light reflected off of brilliant white tiles covering most of the room, each wall patterned at the edges with blues and reds and golds. There was a single low wooden couch against the wall, simple but exquisitely carved. Next to it was a small rolled up carpet and a very old wooden table.

He had been cured. The sensations of his last waking moments came back to him. He knew those feelings, the way that invasive parasitic corruption crept into his body, sticking to his every fiber. And then it had been drawn out. Not seared away with light and magic, no he knew that feeling too. This time the parasite had been drawn from his body, from his very blood, as one would pull a stick free of the mud. It was this that concerned him. The gears of his mind turned with the thought of what creature would possess such power, and he was grim with the solution.

The crash of metal on tile brought the man to his feet. He shrugged on his leather vest and looped his lucky scarf hastily around his shoulders before creeping carefully to the doorway. Outside the room, the architecture opened up into a tall wide hallway with even more intricate mosaic work and beautiful carpets, with understated doorways opening quietly, almost invisible under the glamorous archway at the end of the hall. What struck him the most, however, was the bright sunlight that illuminated every detail of the beautiful building. The pall of corruption over the city had barely allowed for day to be distinguished from night. But the Prince didn't pause for long. He advanced cautiously, hand on his sword to keep it quiet and ready, and stepped down the hall and through the arched doorway into a sunlit room.

The hall he had just passed through suddenly looked bland and shabby next to the high ceiling room. It was tiled in the same beautiful shimmering tiles, with vast mosaics made up of vivid tiles no larger than a fingernail. Latticed windows stretched down from the ceiling nearly to the floor, casting the golden light of dawn over carefully rolled and arranged by the walls. The only sign that the building had been left in a hurry was the disheveled altar. Old flowers decayed slowly along with the remains of tribute food, and dried spilt wine.

In the pattern of light and shadow, a polished copper basin shimmered on the tiled floor, a puddle of water slowly spreading. The Prince stepped quietly into the room, seeing Aara standing in front of the altar. A space was cleared on the alabaster surface and several supplies laid out. Her airy tunic had been left crumbled on the side and her entire left arm was covered in bandages from fingertips to shoulder blade. From her position it was obvious that she had thrown the copper basin, her face was turned away but she gripped her left arm like a vice. Even across the room the Prince could hear her ragged breathing, her whole body shuddering like she was in pain. Aara cursed, her loud voice ringing through the vast room like a bell.

"So you are alive." The Prince's own deep tones seemed to vibrate around the room, surprising him slightly. Aara yelped in response, snatching up her shirt and sending tribute remains scattering across the floor. As the Prince stepped forward, Aara shuffled backwards as quickly as she could.

"Y-you're up…" her wide eyes flickered from his face, to his wounds, to his sword and back. "I'm sorry, can you… er, give me a, a moment?" But the Prince continued to advance slowly, ignoring her words.

"I'm glad to see you. I was sure you fell into that pit." The statement was loaded. Aara tried to force a look of cockiness onto her face, but it was overwhelmed by nervousness.

"Well, if you lived here as long as I have, then you'd know about the security traps and how to get out of them." she paused and he was silent, "But, uh, I can see you've been finding your way without me…" Aara was losing confidence by the second. The intensity the Prince was exuding was oppressive, making her forget that she had no shirt; it made her forget she was wearing anything at all, like he could see through her.

"Tell me how you escaped." It was an order. "In fact, just tell me what exactly you are. There was nowhere you could have gone, back there, and I appreciate you saving me from that corruption, but I know what that is like, and I don't know how you did it." His strides became longer, smooth like a leopard. "I don't have time for liars, and you are either useful or dangerous, so its time to start talking."

"I don't-" he cut her off, slamming his gauntlet down on the altar as he passed it. "What are you." Aara cracked under the pressure of his gaze and she darted suddenly to his right, attempting to put distance between them. Like lightning the Prince drew his sword and stopped her short, slashing with force enough to shatter the tile on the floor. With impossible agility, the woman changed direction, flipping backwards with her momentum and left arm. The Prince darted forwards and with his gauntlet grasped for her arm, not really wanted to kill her.

The clawed fingers caught her above the elbow, and with a look of terror Aara somehow slipped from his grip. Tatters of fresh bandage slipped from her skin and the Prince stopped as Aara desperately stumbled backwards. The remaining bandage slowly unraveled from her upper arm and the rest pooled around her wrist. All the skin between the stark wrappings was blackened like coal. From finger tip to collar bone, Aara's entire left arm was stained black.

Aara desperately tried to cover her arm but she knew it was too late. The Prince stood, silent at first, his sword still ready. He took in the sight of the arm. There was no smell of death or dead flesh, no sign of crawling skin, but the look of it made his hair rise on his neck. He wasn't sure what to make of it, though in his heart he was certain of what it was.

"Time to talk." He demanded, though with a hint of more patience. There were tears in her eyes and fear on her face when Aara finally spoke.

"I-I'm not sure exactly what happened. When I was escaping, the first time… my sister and I were separated from… the rest of our family. We ran and she lead the way. We were trapped in an alley and there was magic all around us, like a wall that blocked our escape.

I don't know how it happened but a wall collapsed and my sister, she fell into a black puddle. I thought she was dead but when I reached out to her all the blackness moved into me, stained my arm, but nothing more. And when I reached out the magic dissolved. She and were about to run but the wall of the city tier broke and I lost her in the land slide." She looked into the Prince's eyes, begging him to believe her. "I don't know why it hasn't killed me. But that is what I did to you. I saw the demon curse you, and when I touched you I drew it out." She shook her head, "I can't get rid of it. I came here, I thought the sacred powers and the water of purification would heal me, but…" Aara look up again. "Please, I know it sounds like insanity but you must believe me!"

Sheathing his sword, the Prince washed the girl's story around in his mouth like he would with questionable wine. But then again… He had seen far stranger things.

"I believe you. For now." There was a moment of silence. Aara suddenly turned red and turned around, pulling her tunic over her head. When she turned back to the Prince, there was a certain amusement in his eyes again. He walked up to her, calmly, and grasped her blackened arm gently. He turned over her hand and he touched her skin carefully. It felt normal, warm and soft and smooth, like any other piece of flesh.

"I suppose," he began slowly, "this explains quite a lot."  
"You are… far less surprised or mistrusting than I had thought you might be. Not that you have any reason to think I am not telling you the truth!" she added quickly. The Prince looked weary for a moment, his eyes going somewhere far away, before coming back to her arm and her face. He had an interesting thought.

"What do you know about the Ahura?"


End file.
